


0' 






y <-> 



k.yi>^ 



'^;r> 


■x^^^ 






:^"^ 








. > 


'' /,! 


,% 






J 




'^y^ 



J^.^ 



.SX^' ''ir. 



,0 o 



^^ ''t.. 



rU 



I ..<^^ 



P r vi ■?! •" 



'V 



■W 






^ /-r 



.^^ 



•O 



.^;^^i^. 



0^ 



-ji 









3 0^ 



<=^- 



ci-. 






•-\'' 



\4^' : m^ 



--. ,N^' 



A^^' ^/^. 



•^/. ^ 



*'*?'^'' ' 






■^*^^,A 



\^'«*. ^ 



o.n"^ .-"V'T?'' 



,0 0, 



<- 



¥:. 




i Q '■ 


xO ■=. 







t'^,'®^ '' ^'p 









o-^ ^^"^^ 



^^ -^^^^ 



']£^^. '- 






C> "^^^ 



\V- 



^\ ^^^^' 






■\'' 



•i' 



, » r. , ^/> ' ^ '-^ \V 






-0 



^^%^-^p 



V- V 



-^'^^■^ 



o5 -t.. 






A\ 
















f#- 


xO=<. 













^ o * ^ -/- 



x^^^ 



^. '^^Z^^^^::^^ 



v^'r '^t-e. 









^Wi^^y-'i- "v 










^.c^^:. 




MRS. M. A. BELL. 



POEMS 



OF 




MRS. MARTHA A. BELL. 



^i^Sl^i 






Copyrighted, 189^ 

BY 

MOLLIE BELL. 



Press of 

'Educational Courant, 

Louisville, Ky 



INTRODUCTION. 

Both sacred and profane history introduce to the reader's 
notice many women whose life work has left an ineffaceable 
impression. 

The matter of the little book that now appeals to an appre- 
ciative, kind and tender hearted people for patronage, owes 
its maternity to the late Mrs. Martha A. Bell. 

Mrs. Bell was born June 27th, 1817. Was the daughter of 
Rev. William W. Penney, who was an able and highly esteemed 
minister of the gospel. In her child and girlhood days, her 
mind, being naturally receptive, became the treasury of the best 
thoughts and ideas. The prayers of her father, who was God's 
man, availed, the spirit was rent, conversion to God ensued, and 
doubtless angels rejoiced. But the father, who, on account of 
his admirable characteristics, secured the largest respect and was 
''highly esteemed in love for his works' sake," died with cholera, 
in the year I833. 

Miss Martha A. Penney, when about sixteen years of age, 
gave herself to the service of the Lord in a "perpetual covenant 
not to be forgotten." The world had its attractions, but the 
attraction of the cross was greater. By a pious walk and godly 
conversation did she adorn the doctrine of the Savior through 
the whole period of her life on earth. 

On the 19th of March, I83S, this daughter of the Lord 



IV 



Almighty, and James M. Bell, who could claim the high relation- 
ship of an adopted Son of the same Heavenly Father, were 
united in marriage. Heart was united to heart and mind to mind. 

They followed the Lamb who once was slain. They dwelt 
under the shadow of the Almighty. 

Eight children were given to them. Only three lived to be 
grown, two sons and a daughter. These children are, we hope, 
all the subjects of the same grace through which the parents 
were saved, and they — the children — "rise up and call them 
blessed." 

On the 14th day of February, 1881, the messenger came, 
and she for whom he came was ready. "Death has no sting 
since the Savior has died." 

The work which brought into requisition the powers of the 
pure, chaste, and strong mind of that princess among women 
comes to the people, and asks for a place on the center table 
and in the library. 

Buy the book and read it. 

Rev. J. T. Hedger. 



PREFACE. 

My mother, who wrote a good deal of poetry for diflferent 
ones, at my request, wrote it in a book for me. I have the 
only copy. 

At the earnest solicitation of many, I have concluded to have 
her poetry published. For many years she was a great sufferer, 
but during all of her sufferings she tried to be patient and cheer- 
ful, and tried to dispense cheer to all around. Besides her 
physical suflferings, many times she was tried in other ways, but 
never did her faith in God falter. She seemed to live in an 
atmosphere of prayer, as all of her writings show. Although 
she did not have a very wide range of acquaintances, yet she 
had many friends, and it can be truly said, that, "None knew 
her but to love her." 

In order to gratify her friends, and hoping it may do stran- 
gers good, I now send forth this book as the greatest monument, 
to her memory that I can erect. 

Her Daughter. 



vu 



THIS BOOK 

IS LOVINGLY AND AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 

TO 
MY ONLY DAUGHTER, 

MARY. 



At your request, my daughter dear, 
I've written you my trials here ; 
And when I in my grave shall sleep, 
Rejoice for me, but do not weep. 

Rejoice to see my trials past, 
And hope I've reached sweet heaven at last. 
There free from sin, and grief and pain. 
Oh ! glorious thought ! thus to remain. 

Dear daughter, strive while here you stay. 
Your Lord and Savior to obey ; 
Do try to teach your brothers dear, 
Your blessed Lord to love and fear. 

Be kind to all beneath the sun, 
Both rich and poor, both old and young. 
Do try to soothe your parent's cares^ 
Now in their fast declining years. 

When I am gone, Oh ! may God's love 
Support you 'till we meet above. 
Oh ! may we meet on that bright shore, 
With all my loved ones gone before. 




JAMES M, BELL. 



MY CONVERSION. 

My Christian friend^, if you'll attend, 

To you my troubles I'll relate. 

Immersed in sin I was born blind 

And ten years traveled in that state. 

One evening late it pleased the Lord 

To bless the g)spf^l he has sent. 

My father preached thit sicred word, 

He called on sinners to repent. 

'Twas then I saw so cleir and bright 

The w^retched state my soul was in. 

I thought to die I should that nigh»-, 

My soul was s) oppressed with sin. 

My father preached that Jesus b'ed 

And groaned and died on Cavalry's tree : 

I thought I'd give ten thousand worlds 

If that dear blood was shed for me. 

The text was suited to my case ; 

Sinners, I want you all to hear, 

'Twas "Seek the Lord while he may be found 

And call upon him while he's neir." 

For many days and weeks I mourned; 

I often did attempt t ^ pray, 

Alas ! before I was aware 

Satan had tempted me away. 

He told me that I was too young ; 

That little children could not pray, 

*Twas time enough to seek the Lord, 

'Till I got old I might delay. 



]0 

He said, "Young girl, 'tis in your power 

To find the Lord, you'll not be lost, 

For he has pardoned thousands worse — 

Think of the th'ef upon the cross." 

I strove my burden to cast off. 

Both night and day, with all my power,. 

I promised I would seek the Lord, 

When at a more convenient hour. 

But oh ! how much I was deceived, 

My Savior I could not forget, 

To view him nailed upon the cross. 

Great drops of Mood to see him sweat. 

Thus I went on for several years ; 

Sometimes I did for mercy plea. 

But often felt that I should die. 

And sink to hell eternally. 

At length affliction raged around. 

And many friends were called to die ; 

It pleased the Lord among the rest, 

My father's family to try. 

The Lord did take a brother dear 

And little sister in one week. 

With the same fever I did ra^e, 

Oh ! who could then my troubles speak. 

Greater afflictions soon did come, 

My father did the ch )lera take. 

To hear his dreadful cries and groans, 

*Twas then I thought my heart would break. 

To see him call his friends around, 

His wife and children to his bed, 

And pray the Lord them all to bless, 

When he was numbered with the dead. 

He took us singly by the hand. 

And kissed and bid us all adieu, 



11 

And then before he left this world, 
Poor sinners all, he prayed for you. 
I felt the separation great ; 
To think'we'd never meet again 
While his dear soul ascended high, 
That mine should sink in endless pain. 
Oh ! who can this sad scene describe, 

Lord I can not on it dwell ; 
How hard to give a father up, 
And one that was beloved so well. 

1 felt each day would be my last, 

For sickness still prayed on my frdme ; 
To sink to belli knew was just; 
I dared not call on Jesus' name. 
While in despair my soul was driven, 
Those words lan through my mind like talk, 
"Thy sins though many are forgiven. 
Arise, take up thy bed and walk." 

then my burden was removed, 

1 felt my sins were all forgiven, 
And I was done with earthly things 

And soon shouM rest with Christ in heaven. 

Lord, that I could oftener feel 
The joy I felt on that blest day, 

1 thought that nothing on th's earth, 
Could caue me from my Lord to stray. 
But then again I was deceived, 

For Satan s ill stops up my road, 
And often causes me to grieve 
Because I can do nothing good. 

that the Lord wuuli guide my feet 
And keep me in the narrow roid, 
That when I take my last repose, 

1 may awake with ih^e, my God. 



12 

Composed when the split took place in Old Goshen 

Church, about 1838. Although nearly twenty years 

have elapsed I feel the same interest in the church 

and those I love as I did then. To a great extent 

my prayers have been unanswered. 

But while I live, from day to day. 
I'll ask for faith and try to pray. 

Brethren and sisters in a band, 
Let all unite in heart and hand, 
And humbly beg and much implore 
That God would visit us once more. 

Now we are scattered and bereft. 
And but a few of us are left, 
Often without a pastor we, 
And in a sad decline you see. 

But God is wise and just and good. 
And always has supplies of food. 
Poor hungry souls should all this d-iy 
For that blest food most humbly pray. 

Lord look on this once favored place 
And do once more revive thy grace; 
Quicken dead souls, make them alive, 
And cause this little church to thrive. 

Remember, Lord, the prayers of one 
That has for years been dead and gone. 
The tears of grief he's often shed 
That Goshen might lift up her head. 

Oh ! who c in that dear soul forget 
That labored here through cold and wet, 
His labors too were greatly blessed, 
But without him we've been distressed. 



13 

Lord my soul is sore distressed 
Each day and night I find no rest. 
My brothers and my sisters, too, 
Without thy grace, what will they do ? 

Poor sinners all around I see, 

Fast hastening to eternity. 

Do stop them, Lord, before they go 

Down, down to death and endless woe. 

Oh! shall I ever live to see 
My brothers and my sisters flee 
From death and hell and endless woe. 
And trembling to their Savior go? ^ 

Go humbly pleading to the Lord 
For mercy through his pardoning blood 
And hear them all rejoice and say, 
I've found my Savior by the way ? 

how my soul would then be fed 

With bread from heaven, that precious bread, 

And not till then, Lord, can I 

Forget to weep and mouin and sigh. 

AN ACROSTIC. 

Jesus, my dear Jesus, my shepherd, my friend, 
Alone for salvation on thee I depend. 
My Savi( r, my Savior, and sliall I e'er be 
Engaged with bright angels in praises of thee. 
Sometimes I'm afflicted, sometimes I'm distressed, 
My Savior, in thee I can sometimes find rest; 
A few more trials and troubles and I, 
Dear friends and relations, must be called to die. 



14 

In heaven, in heaven how bappy I'll be 

Singing halelujah through eternity. 

Oh ! sinners, Oh ! sinners, and must I leave you; 

No more your dear faces on earth shall I view? 

But when the loud trumpets shall rend earth and 

skie?. 
Enraptured shall Christians from their tombs arise. 
Lo we shall see Jesus, our songs shall be one 
Loud anthems of praise? to Father and Son. 

ACROSTIC. 

My friends I soon must bid farewell. 
And leave you all I love so well. 
Remember me w^hen I am gone. 
Though weep not then, nor for me mourn. 
How hard to go, my husband dear. 
And leave you and my children here, 
And mother, brothers, sisters, too. 
Now soon I'll Hd farewell to you. 
But give them grace, Lord, I cry 
Even now before I'm called to die. 
Lord save their souls from death and hell ; 
Lord may we all in heaven dwell. 

FOR MISS SALLIE WHITE PENNY. 

[ This is about the first production of the autlior, which was 
written when quite young. J 

In this wide world, my dearest dear, 

There are so many vines, 
It causes me to li^t my pen 

And write these troubled lines. 



15 

You are in love, my dearest dear, 

And I'm not far behind ; 
I love so hard I scarce can see, 

I think you must be blind. 

The lad you love I'm very sure, 

Returns your love again ; 
So do not keep him in suspense. 

But ease him of his pain. 

But as for me you plain can fee, 

I am not loved again. 
Therefore I will forget it all. 

And ease myself of pain. 

A TRUE STORY. 

[Written soon after the author's marriage.] 

There was a man lived in this State, 

In his own estimation great. 

To marry the second time he tried, 

But very often was denied. 

In short a woman he did tike. 

Which caused her friends her to forsake ; 

Because he was of such a race. 

Her friends all thought him a disgrace. 

Sometimes they lived a loving life ; 

Sometimes she was a joyful wife ; 

But soon enough she did not die, 

So he could heir her property. 

And if the truth I now must tell, 

He often wished her soul in hell ; 

That he might marry another wife, 

And so enjoy this present life. 

■So for her death he could not wait, 



16 

Hoping it soon would terminate. 

Away he went one day in haste, 

And brought a darling to his taste. 

'Twas then the property did fly, 

This darling girl now to supply. 

Her wants to him were soon made known. 

They -were no sooner known than done. 

His wife was often in a fret, 

She did her marriage much regret. 

So oft she saw them wink and smile. 

And saw them kiss once and awhile. 

She saw her loll upon his lap, 

And give his cheek a gentle tap, 

She saw him fold her in his firmp, 

And say she had ten thousand charms. 

But my ugly toothless wife ! 

With her I can not end my life ! 

I know she loves me very dear, 

But that is more than I love her. 

Now if the truth must come about. 

He with his darling soon put out ; 

Although he seemed quite loth to start, 

The riches lay so near his heart. 

The day before he went away. 

His girl would often to him say. 

Take this, take that, do not leave, 

So much for that old thing to have. 

yes, my dear, now this will do, 

You know I will take care of you. 

Do leave enough for her behind. 

You know I've broke her piece of mind. 

Come, let us look now if we can, 

And see this noble minded man. 

Do look and see his gererous heart, 



17 

While giving to each one her part. 

Indeed he left his wife distressed, 

Although her neighbors thought her blest. 

She often mourned for him she loved, 

Although unworthy he had proved. 

But let us trace this happy pair. 

Traveling unto a country far ; 

Hoping to shun the world who knew, 

What punishment to them was due. 

To Indiana they did go, 

Hoping that no one there would know ; 

But soon the secret did come out. 

And they were turned to the right about. 

The Illinois, he was close by, 

He thought the neighbors there he'd try ; 

But long he had not tarried there. 

Before they had him in a snare. 

'Twas then he felt his patience tried, 

Where could he go his faults to hide, 

For if to travel he did fail, 

They quickly would put him in jail. 

His money spent what could he do. 

And work he was a stranger to ; 

At length the thought did strike his brain, 

I'll go back to my wife again. 

1*11 tell her if she will forgive. 

That I again will with her live. 

I know she loves me very dear^ 

And I will feign that I love her. 

One evening late he did appear, 

"How do you do, my Susan dear?"^ 

"Ah ! bad enough," was her reply,. 

**rve often thought that I should die.'^^ 

"Come now, my dear, forget the past, 



18 

Oar happiest days may be our last ; 
Of traveling more I have declined, 
So let me cheer your troubled mind." 
Something was yet upon her mind, 
Although her husband was so kind. 
At length she said unto him, ^' Pray 
Where is that girl you took away?" 
And when to this he did reply, 
He said : '' Susan, she's close by. 
And I am bound to board her too, 
I'd like to board her here with you." 
^'I cannot board the girl, indeed! 
I feel that I am from her freed ; 
I cannot feel to her so kind, 
So she another place must find." 
But soon the time did roll around. 
When kindness did much more abound 
To keep her darling man at home, 
She gave up for his girl to come. 
Who can another woman find. 
That to her husband is so kind? 
After he thus has treated her. 
That he could then be found so dear. 
Now I must hasten to a close. 
There's no one on this earth that knows 
The happiness this man must find 
With two good wives to soothe his mind. 
Their happiness is now complete; 
They have an heir that is so sweet, 
They cannot let it sleep nor rest. 
^Tis hard to tell which loves it best. 
They call it Susan, for his wife. 
Thinking that it will end all strife. 
•On her alone they do depend, 



19 

They have no other earthly friend. 
Oh ! what a beauty he must be, 
This great^ this nohle Mr. Lea 1 
That he so many wives can have, 
While many bachelors must live. 
His legs are crooked, he is tray-backed, 
He. is, indeed, like lime unslacked, 
His eyes like pewter stuck in clay, 
His hair is lying every way. 
His nose is flat and very broad. 
His mouth does well with it accord; 
His forehead low and very flat, 
He wears a white, low pressure hat. 
'Tis past my powers him to describe ; 
He's so much like the Arab tribe. 
Both in his turn and temper too, 
I judge by what I know is true, 
Now I have known them both so well, 
Half of their meanness I can't tell. 
If ever Satan transformed could be, 
'Twas in Marth Ivy and Bill Lea. 

LINES 

Composed at the request of a friend to sing in church. 

happy time come hasten on 

When I in heaven shall rest. 
No sorrow there, no grief nor care. 

Shall cross my peaceful breast. 

But there will sing the song, '* Free Grace," 

Through all eternity. 
Brethren and sisters in the Lord 

How happy we shall be. 



20 

We'll meet with Christ who groaned and died 

That rebel worms might live ; 
Our wants all then will be supplied, 

For he doth freely give. 

We'll meet our friends who are gone before 

Though long we've been apart, 
They were so dear when they were here 

Great joy will fill each heart. 

Our happiness will be complete 

When we in heaven dwell 
And face to face that Savior see 

Who ransomed us from hell. 

There round the shining throne of God 

Our friends with joy we'll see, 
Redeeming grace and dying love 

We'll sing eternally. 

Oh ! sinners come, there still is room. 

On Jesus come rely, 
Redemption through the blood of Christ 

Will save all who apply. 

I can but weep that you may weep, 
And mourn that you may mourn. 

And pray the Lord without delay. 
To melt your hearts of stone. 

ACROSTIC. 

[Composed at the request of two youBg girls whose names it 
bears, who dated their convict ons to the earnest exhortation of 
a dear sister and cousin, (Juliet O. Bell) upon her death bed. 
Both have become members of the church. May God enable 
them to become as shining lights in this benighted world.] 

Most holy are thy ways, God, 
Although we feel affliction's rod. 
Redeemer, still thy grace unfold. 
Young sinners turn as well as old. 



21 

Farewell, I heard a daughter say, 
Repent my friends, and often pray 
And shed no tears of grief for me, 
Now I in heaven will shortly be. 
Can any friends forget her love, 
Exhorting them to meet above, 
Saying, repent while it is day. 

May you not soon be called away ? 
On some her words passed off like dew. 
Repentance touched the hearts of two. 
Redeeming grace they sought and found. 
In Jesus' love may they abound. 
Savior, do guide their feet always ; 

And fill their hearts with prayer and praise. 
Never may they forget that cry, 
"Dear friends repent or you must die." 

Suffer not Satan, Lord, to win 
Upon their hearts, keep them from sin ; 
So may they shun his balls and plays. 
And ever ^yatch his winding ways. 
Now while they are so young in years. 

May they on thee cast all their cares; 
And may they like that child above. 
Repentance preach to those they love. 
Yes, Lord, watch o'er them all along. 

Be thou their light, their joy, their song; 
Enable them in grace to grow ; 
Let their light shine on all below, 
Low down at their dear Savior's feet. 



22 

May they like Mary take their seat ; 
And when in death they close their eyes 
Be thou their God above the skies. 

ACROSTIC. 

[ Composed for her whose name it bears for declining to go to 
a dance.] 

Father in heaven do bless this child, 
On her send showers of grace ; 
Round her thine arms of love extend. 

Show her thy smiling face. 

Unto vain sports at Satan's call, 

So many flock with glee ; 

And act as though they feared not death, 

Nor vast eternity. 

My daughter, may you ever choose, 

A self-denying road, 

Round you though others dance and play, 

You seek the grace of God. 

But with me now you choose to stay, 
E'en waiting round my bed ; • 

Likely I soon shall leave this world. 
Lord bless you when I am dead. 

LINES 

Composed upon the death of a daughter in her 
thirteenth year and an infant son. They contain, in 
substance, the daughter's experience, related the day 
previous to her death, and also her dying exhortations 
to her only brother and sister that were left, and other 
relatives who were present at the time. 



23 

How lovely, blooming, young and gay 
Were those whom death has snatched away 
Their lovely smiles and cheerfulness 
Did often cheer me in distress. 

When on affliction's bed I lay, 

As oft I did from day to day. 

Who smoothed my pillow 'round my head ? 

That lovely daughter now is dead. 

It always was her chief delight 

To wait upon me day and night; 

In sickness, too, as well as health. 

She was worth more to me than wealth. 

But she is gone to realms above. 
Where she can sing redeeming love ; 
Eternity may run its round. 
She'll still sing, " Jesus I have found 1 " 

She found him in her youthful bloom, 
In time to fit her for the tomb ; 
While on her knees she tried to pray, 
Her Savior washed her sins away. 

She said her Jesus was so good, 
He washed her sins in his own blood ; 
'Twas thus she felt her sins forgiven. 
And she was made an heir of heaven. 

She went alone twice every day, 
And did for sinners try to pray ; 
Her friends with whom she had to part. 
Did twine around her tender heart. 



24 

She said, " I soon shall meet above, 
With many friends I dearly love ; 
My youngest brother will follow me, 
In a day or two, you all will see." 

You'll have four children then in heaven, 
Mother! whose sin's are all forgiven; 
A brother I leave, and sister dear, 
Who're not prepared for heaven, I fear. 

Shed not a tear, to them said she — 
You'd better pray than weep for me ; 
My brother dear, what will you do 
If you your wicked way pursue ? 

Have either of you ever prayed ? 
If you have not, you have delayed. 
My brother, pray, pray while you live — 
My sister, pray, God will forgive. 

When I am gone, I humbly pray 

You'll not forget what I now say ; 

May you be ready with ma and pa 

To meet your friends in heaven who're there. 

My uncles and my aunts I love — 
Prepare for that sweet rest above ; 
Seek Jesus, whom I do admire — 
To talk of Him I'd never tire. 

I wish I could that preacher see, 
Who has so often prayed for me. 
Around the family altar here, 
And gave me books to read, so dear. 



25 

And when her voice she could not raise, 
She'd lift her eyes to heaven in praise ; 
And while her hands had strength to move, 
She'd smile and point to heaven above. 

Now she is gone, and her brother dear, 
Who was left two days longer here ; 
But sickness, sorrow, pain nor death 
Can now no longer stop their breath. 

They can of their sweet Jesus sing, 
And make the heavenly arches ring ; 
May we be ready, Lord, like they 
When we are called to die, I pray. 

I have two children only left. 
Of all the rest I have been bereft; 
O may the Lord, by sovereign grace 
Turn those two now to seek his face. 

ACROSTIC. 

Joyfully did'st thou go, but I long to behold thee. 
Unto rest thou art gone from all sorrow and gloom ; 
Like the roses that bloom in that graveyard around 

thee, 
In beauty and youth thou did'st sink to the tomb. 
Ere long I shall go, and forever be with thee. 
To heaven where parting and tears are no more. 
Our friends who have long gone before I'll meet 

with thee, 
Blessed Je3us, I'll meet thee on Canaan's bright shore. 
Ever lov'd, happy place, we will never cease singing 
Loud anthems of praises where time has no end; 
Look how that dear Savior has died to redeem us, 



26 

Jesus, our Redeemer, our guardian and friend. 
turn, sinners, turn, must we ever be parted ? — 
How can you slight offers of mercy to-day ? 
Now Jesus invites you, and Death often warns you ; 
How certain is death, how c in you delay ? 
Behold Jesus' love ! how in mercy he spared you ; 
Each side of you death comes and takes friends away. 
Lord turn and prepare you to meet him in glory 
Like my lov'd ones who have gone there, I pray. 

LINES 

Composed soon after the death of her two children, 
by scarlet fever, in 1853. 

Jesus wept at Lazarus's grave. 

May I not o'er friends weep too ? 
Though he died our souls to save, 

Nature mourns to bid adieu. 
Oh ! it almost breaks my heart, 

Though I know 'tis just and right, 
With my friends awhile to p^rt. 

Those in whom I did delight. 

Jesus wept and groaned within. 

To behold two sisters weep. 
Can a mother's tears be sin — 

When her children in death sleep ? 
Though a mourning heart I have, 

While I'm traveling on my way, 
I can bless the Lord who gave. 

Though he often takes away. 

Jesus wept, but soon in love 

He will wipe my tears away, 
Soon I'll join with those above. 



27 

In his praise from day to day. 
Oh ! my Savior soon will come, 

On him I will cast my cares ; 
By his grace he'll call me home, 

Then he'll wipe away my tears. 

ACROSTIC— Air— '' Greenville." 

[Composed for the Sons of Temperance.] 

Lord do bless our Institution, 
On us smile from Heaven above ; 
Valiant Sons of Temperance make us, 
Each abounding in thy love. 

Praise and adoration due Thee, 
Unto Thee our cause we bring; 
Rich and poor may come together, 
In Thee trust and to Thee sing. 
Turn the hearts of those who hate'us, 
Yet to love this temperance band. 

And may none of us disgrac3 it, 
Ne'er fall through, but firmly stand. 
Do our enemies examine. 

Father, in Thy Holy Book ? 

In it we should for instruction. 

Daily on its pages look. 

Each of us should stand unshaken. 

Lord, while thou art on our side. 

In Thy strength we hope to strengthen. 

Till our cause sweeps like a tide. 

Yes, we hope to see all Nations 

March with Banners waving high ; 

And with praise and adoration, 

Bless their God for victory. 



28 

ACROSTIC. 

[ William E. Bell's Christmas Gift, by his Own Mother.] 

Will you, my dear, my only son 
In Jesus trust for what he's done ? 
Lo he for sinners groaned and died ! 
Look at his head, his hands, his side. 
I know the world's beset with snares 
And nets, to catch you unawares ; 
Many are Satan's plans to hide 
Each trap and gin, though by your side. 
Bold monster fills your heart with pride 
Eich day and night his skill has tried. 
Loves oft to speak of fame and wealth , 
Looks over sin and all ill health. 
Shall Satan lead you down to hell ; 
Can you in that dark region dwell? 
How can you slight a Savior's love ? 
Remember you have friends above, 
In heaven you have a sister dear, 
She said, "Forme shed not a tear; 
Turn to the Lord, and to him pray, 
My brother dear, begin to-day." 
And can you still love sin, my son ? 
Seeing what Grace for her has done? 
God still is on the giving hand, 
If you desire the promised land. 
From Satan flee while it's to-day. 
To-morrow you may lifeless lay. 
Behold the monster Death is near, 
"You know he has been lately here. 
How lonely has he made our home 
In the past year ! now what's to come ? 
Should make us all in earnest cry. 



29 

Lord, do give us grace to die, 

Work, Lord, our arms are short, I see ; 

Now all our help must come from Thee. 

Mine's an exceeding urgent case. 

bless us. Lord, and give us grace, 

To meet my loved ones all with thee; 

How happy. Lord, my soul would be! 

Eternity would not seem long 

Round Jesus' s throne with that loved throng. 

TO THE MEMORY OF 
WILLIAM STEPHEN BURRUS. 

Young people all, attention give. 
While I address you for the dead ; 
May Jesus touch your hearts with grace 
While I relate what he has said. 

For distant lands he left his home. 
His health was good, his spirits high. 
He little thought 'ere he returned 
That death would call and he must die. 

When sickness came, his mother's kis?, 
And last request, did reach his heart, 
" My son, prepare, meet me in Heaven, 
Perhaps we now forever part." 

His sins like mountains did arise ; 
He saw how wrong thus to delay; 
He called his friends around his bed, 
For him, and with him, then to pray. 

They pointed to the Lamb of God, 
And to that God they tried to pray, 
Then he requested them to sing 
To him ^'I would not live always." 



30 

While he assisted them to sing, 
He felt his sins were washed away ; 
Then he rejoiced to know the truth 
That he could here no longer stay. 

He said he saw his seat in Heaven ; 
He begged his sister not to grieve, 
But think of his eternal joys, 
And pray for those he had to leave. 

He wished his mother he could see, 
And talk to her of Heavenly bliss ; 
He would not give his little hope 
For thousands of such worlds as this. 

Then with his icy hand he wrote, 
" Dear mother, do not grieve for me, 
I now am on my dying bed ; 
It is a sweet, dear bed to me." 

He wished his brothers he could see, 
And all his friends he left behind. 
And beg them to prepare for death 
While they a Savior's face might find. 

He told his friends around his bed. 
He longed to go, they should not weep, 
And trusting in a Savior's love. 
With a sweet smile he fell asleep. 

TO MARY. 

The God of wisdom, light and love. 
Watch o'er and guard you from above. 
And give you meekness like a dove. 

My daughter. 



31 

It matters not what others do, 
The straight and narrow way pursue, 
While this vain world you're passing through, 

My daughter. 

Be ever watchful, darling child, 
This world is wicked, vain and wild, 
But by God's grace bs meeh and mild, 

My daughter. 

And when our days on earth are past, 
And grief's all gone, now o'er us cast. 
Oh ! may we reach sweet heaven, at last, 

My daughter. 

THE MONSTER INTEMPERANCE. 

[Written for The Sons of Tempei-ance,] 

Oome old and young, join in a band 
And slay this monster in our land. 
He with a furious lion's power, 
Seeks daily whom he may devour. 

And in his hand the cup of death. 
He holds, well poisoined with his breath, 
And those who on him daily call. 
Will soon in his dread clutches fall. 

He calls the husband from his wife. 
And soon their prospects change for life. 
That table once with plenty spread. 
Their children cry around for bread. 

Who would have thought that lovely bride. 
That in her choice did so much pride. 
With broken heart should cry, "Lord save," 
And soon weep o'er a drunkard's grave. 



32 

Now many a mother's darling son, 
Has that dread monster wooed and won, 
And torn from her most fond embrace, 
Has died in sin and sad disgrace. 

Mothers, wives and children all. 
Should often on all good men call. 
To do their best this beast to slay. 
Women can only beg and pray. 

The Sons begin to make him howl. 
And his best friends oft meet and growl, 
While they consult, with cup in hand. 
How will they stop this Temperance band. 

Now all he gets once in his clasp, 
He holds as with a tiger's grasp, 
'Tis strange that men don't make a law. 
To break this monster's firm set jaw. 

FOR THOMAS PENNEY, A BROTHER. 

[An Acrostic, Composed in 1840.] 

To curse and swear is your delight. 
How soon your day may turn to night. 
Oh ! my dear brother, think that death. 
May soon come in and stop your breath. 
And in a world of bliss or woe. 
Soon your dear soul in haste must go. 

Prepare his heart. Lord give him grace, 
Enrapture him with thy dear face. 
Now show him, Lord, what he has been. 
Nor let him live in love with sin. 
Even now, Lord, thy grace impart. 
Yes, Lord, I pray do turn his heart. 



33 
FOR WILLIAM W. PENNEY, A BROTHER. 

[ An Acrostic, Composed in 1840 ] 

When of my friends I often think, 

I feel my heart within me sink, 

Low at thy feet I often call, 

Lord wilt thou save and bless them all. 

I feel that time's fast rolling on, 

And we from earth must soon be gone — 

My brother where will you be found. 

When God aloud his trump shall sound? 

Prepare him, Lord, by sovereign grace. 
Engage him in that heavenl}^ race. 
Now may he start to win the prize, 
Nor stop till death shall close his eyes. 
Each day you're hastening down to death. 
Yes, God will soon require your breath. 

FOR MRS. LUCY PRICE. 

[After the sudden death of her husband. 

Dear Lucy, may the Savior bless, 
And comfort you, in your distress. 
With aching heart and tearful eyes, 
1 greatly with you sympathize. 

No earthly friend can soothe your grief, 
Or give your troubled soul relief, 
But on the Lord case all your cares. 
And he will wipe away your tears. 

I know the anguish of your heart, 

'Tis hard with your best friend to part, 

Dearer than self is such a friend ; 

But try on Chri&t now to depend. 

c 



34 

Yes, -he alone can comfort give. 
While in this vale of tears you live, 
"Try his commands now to obey, 
And walk the straight and narrow way. 

It matters not what worldiags say, 
'Take up your cross and Christ obey, 
■And beg for mercy at his feet, 
-There with his smiles you'll always meet. 

And may you train your children dear, 
Your blessed Lord to love and fear. 
So when you all shall close your eyes, 
You'll reigQ with Christ above the skies. 

My trials too have pressed me sore, 
I often feel they'll soon be o'er. 
But all I suffer here is right, 
^or I am in my father's sight. 

For years I've felt his chastening rod, 
And oft it presses very hard ; 
But while his smiles I daily see, 
-My life or death is one to me. 

Earewell awhile, Oh ! may we meet 
In heaven above, our friends to greet, 
And help them sing a Savior's love. 
In that delightful world above. 

TO MY NIECE, ALMEDA BEAZLEY. 

[1S72.] 

Dear Allie, must we so soon part ? 
Oh, how it grieves my poor, sad heart ! 
And must we part to meet no more ? 
■Or shall we meet on Canaan's shore? 



35 

Dear AUie, death is ever near. 

He calls my friends from year to year; 

The more afflicted often stay, 

While he sweeps youth and health away. 

Dear Allie, time is fleeting by, 
And you and I must surely die. 
Oh, may the Lord by sovereign grace. 
Teach you to seek and find His face. 

Dear Allie, should that grace be given, 
*Twill fit you lor both earth and heaven. 
And should afflictions press you sore, 
By faith you'll view that heavenly shore. 

Dear Allie, fare you well awhile ; 
May sorrow seldom check th^t smile ; 
May happiness and joy and love 
Bestrew your path to realms above. 

Farewell awhile, Almeda, dear. 
On Jesus cast your every care ; 
Make him your strength in every case ; 
Your only rock and hiding place. 

Do shun that much frequented road. 
That leads both old and young from God. 
Farewell awhile ; ma}'- blessings rare 
Attend your home and everj'where ; 

And may your friends with rapture meet 
Their darling they so long to greet 1 
Oh, may you meet them all in health. 
And value it far more than wealth. 



8G 

Farewell awhile, but not forever — 
Will that sad word afitction sever ? 
No, may we meet in heaven above, 
To live with those we fondly love. 
Oh, may we reach that hajpy land, 
No more to take the partirig hand. 

FOR MARTHA JANE BEAZLEY. 

[Written 1.^53 ] 

May this little token of love keep its place in your album, 
when the hand that penned it shall be cold in death. When you 
think of the writer, steal away to some lonely quiet spot and read 
and meditate upon what I now write. Luke xii — 40: "Be ye 
therefore ready also." I wish to bring your mind to bear upon 
the great necessity of being ready to die. You well remember 
one of the lovely flowers that I have had taken from my embrace. 
She looked as likely to live as you ; but death came and cut her 
and her little brother down in the bloom of youth and loveliness. 
But I bless the Lord for his goodness, for death found them ready. 
One lovely Saturday morning in May, my dear, cheerful, happy 
daughter (for she was always cheerful, and tried to make all 
happy around her) went into the garden to plant many kinds of 
flowers, the next Saturday she was laid in the cold and icy grave. 
She met death with a smile and exhorted her friends with more 
earnestness to meet her in heaven than I ever saw any preacher. 
Oh ! that you had seen her. As you once bloomed v/ith her on 
the shores of mortality, may you be ready to bloom with her in 
the Paradise of God. As I never expect to see you in this world, 
and as I hope to meet my loved ones in heaven, I would once 
more say to you, my dear niece: "Be ye therefore ready also; 
for the Son of Man cometh at an hour when ye think not." 

Death sweeps away from us in haste. 
The fairest flowers that on earth bloom, 

The young, the promising and gay, 
Are often hurried to the tomb. 



37 

Death soon may come, oh! think of me, 
He robbed my cheerful, happy home; 

No lovelier flowers on earth you'll see, 

Than mine "who are mouldering in the tomb. 

Death sweeps away, prepared or not, 
The old and young, the rich and poor; 

Are you now ready with my flowers. 
To bloom on Canaan's blissful shore? 

Death sweeps away their bloom from earth. 

But blessed be the God of love, 
Although their bloom is dead below, 

They bloom afresh in heaven above. 

Death soon will come ! if unprepared, 
How can you meet a Savior's face, 

Who died that sinful worms might live. 
And offers freely saving grace ? 

Death soon may come, now seek the Lord, 

To-day the gospel calls, to-day ; 
Oh ! never rest until you find, 

A Savior reconciled, I pray. 

FOR MY NIECE, ANN MARY BEASLEY, 

On being separated perhaps forever from her. 

May we meet in heaven, though here we must part. 
And the bonds of affection have long bound each heart. 
There's nothing but heaven, while here we remain. 
Should take our affections and hearts to obtain. 

May we meet in heaven, oh ! do not delay. 
Now make up your mind and seek Jesus I pray, 
The Savior rejects none who will him obey ; 
The promise is only extended to-day. 



38 

May we meet in heaven, it grieves me at heart-, 
To think if you turn not, we ever must pat t. 
I hope that my treasures are laid up above, 
And gladly I'll meet there, with those that I love. 

May we meet in heaven, I can't say farewell. 
Until I entreat you to flee now from hell. 
To-day the sweet gospel invites you to day; 
To-morrow your soul may be called from its clay. 

May we meet in heaven, where friends never part. 
Where the love of our Savior will fill every heart. 
Oh ! this will be pleasure worth striving to gain, 
While we are traveling through sorrow and pain. 

May we meet in heaven, the thought oh ! how sweet 
With Jesus and angels and Christians to meet, 
For ever to dwell in that haven of rest. 
Where not one more sorrow w^ill cross o'er my breast. 

TO MY SISTER, ALMEDA BEAZLEY. 

Sister, though we long are parted. 

Time is winging us away. 
To a world where sin and sorrow. 

Can no longer on us prey. 

Sister, are we always ready ? 

Are our lamps now burning bright? 
Are they trimmed by God's direction ? 

Do they give a brilliant light ? 

Sister, if we now are ready, 

We should call on all around, 
To receive to-day with gladness 

The sweet gospel's joyful sound. 



39 

Sister, oft I view with sadness, 
My past, careless, useless days, 

And how much I have neglected. 
Sounding my Redeemer's praise. 

Sister, death is hovering 'round me, 

Oft I almost feel his hand. 
Oh ! that I could live a Christian, 

Till I reach a better land. 

Sister, I am sore afflicted. 

Still I feel that God is love. 
Oft he whispers consolation, 

To my soul from heaven above. 

Sister, should I never greet thee. 
May we meet on Canaan's shore. 

With our friends who've gone before us, 
May we meet to part no more. 



TO MARY E. WALLACE. 

AN ACROSTIC. 

IThe initials of the first verses compose the author's name, 
the next the name of the one to whom it is written, and the in- 
itials of the last three lines stand for Love, Purity and Fidelity.] 

My cousin, should we never meet 
Above this earth we've trod, 
Remember we must soon be called 
To stand before our God. 
Has Jesus washed us in his blood 
And filled us with his grace ? 

Are we prepared to hear 'with joy, 



40 

Behold thy Savior's face ? 
Each day we're traveling to the tomb, 
Look where our friends now lie ! 
Lonely and sad we sometimes feel, 

To think we soon must die. 

Oh ! should we never meet below, 

May we in heaven meet, 

And sing with those who are gone before, 

Redeeming grace, how sweet. 

Your father, mother, sisters too. 

Each torn from your embrace, 

While here, committed you to God, 

And have you sought his face ? 

Look to the Lord while yet 'tis day. 

Let Jesus be your cry, 

And beg for pardon through his blood. 

Come now on Him rely. 

Eternal God, with love divine. 

Look on this orphan's tears. 
Prepare her now to meet her friends 
For whom she has mourned for years. 

LINES 

Composed for Mary E. Wallace, on her mother's 

grave. 

When I look on thy grave, I greatly deplore thee, 
I would have been thankful a mother to have, 

In council to guide me, and youth to protect me, 
But gloomy and sad I now weep o'er her grave. 



41 

When I stand by thy grave, I long to behold thee, 
For death so soon robbed me, I knew not thy smile. 

He took my dear mother, my best friend, far from me, 
And left me an infant, a poor orphan child. 

TO MISS BETTIE PENNEY. 

Farewell, that word I often hear. 

And speak to friends from year to year. 

But always like a tolling bell. 

Sounds that sad word, farewell, farewell. 

Farewell, I cannot speak that word. 
And never point you to the Lord, 
For sinners Christ was crucified ; 
Look at his head, his hands, his side. 

Farewell, and may a Savior's love 
Cause you to seek that rest above; 
And may you never rest, I pray. 
Until your sins are washed away. 

Farewell, may earthly blessing, too, 
As well as grace, be heaped on you ; 
Miy needful blessings crown your path, 
While you traverse the road to death. 

Farewell, and must we ever part ! 
The thought, oh ! how it grieves my heart. 
L'^rd, land us safe on that blest shore. 
Where, if we meet, we'll part no more. 

FOR MISS BETTIE PAXTON. 

IS^ow in your health and youthful bloom. 
Prepare for death, think of the tomb. 
The young as well as old must die. 
And all must soon forgotten lie. 



42 

Death soon will come, and you must tell,. 
Farewell to those you love so well, 
Are you in readiness to-day, 
That dreadful summons to obey ? 

Death soon will come, oh I happy day. 
To all whose sins are washed away, 
With garments washed in Jesus' bloo(], 
Are waiting to go home to God. 

Death soon may come, and may God's love 
Be poured on you from Heaven above ; 
And may you meekly wear that dress, 
That glorious robe of righteousness. 

Death soon will come, oh ! how I love 
To think of friends in heaven above, 
And happy thought, we'll part no more 
If e'er we meet on Canaan's shore. 

Death soon may come, oh ! may we be 
Prepared for vast eternity ; 
With those we love our voices raise, 
And tune our harps in songs of praise. 

TO MRS. M. B. HOLT. 

While o'er this world you roam at large^ 
Your many duties to discharge, 
May Christ be daily by your side 
And ever be your constant guide. 

Though trials oft obstruct your way, 
On faith and hope your spirits stiy, 
May charity Avith her bright face 
Adorn you with her every grace. 



43 

And may the Lord your efforts bless, 
And comfort you in all distress, 
And be your strength and hiding place, 
Until you reach his smiling face. 

And should we never meet again 
While traveling through this world of pain 
Oh ! may we meet on Canaan's shore, 
Where Christians meet to part no more. 



FOR MISS THERESA CARSON. 



Farewell awhile, Theresa dear. 
On Jesus cast your every care ; 
Make Him your all in every case, 
Your only strength and hiding place. 
Do shun that much frequented road 
That leads both old and young from God. 

Farewell awhile, may blessings rare 
Attend you home and everywhere ; 
And may your friends with rapture meet, 
Their darling they have longed to meet. 
Oh ! may you meet them all in health. 
And value it far more than wealth. 

Farewell awhile, but not forever. 
Will that sad word affection sever? 
No ! may we meet in heaven above 
To live with those we fondly love. 
Oh ! may we reach that happy land, 
No more to take the parting hand. 



tion. 



44 

LINES 

Composed under the most sore and protracted attlic- 

« 

Lord help me while I suffer here, 

To bear thy chastening rod, 
Never to murmur, but be still, 

And know that it is God. 

Lord help me ! is my daily cry, 

And often through the n'ght, 
No other words e'er pass my lips 

In which I more delight. 



Lord help me ! oh ! I do delight 
My help is all in thee, 

And in thy all-atoning blood 
Poured out on Calvary. 



Lord help me! thouoh my frier ds make light 

Of my afflctions here. 
Oh ! m ly they never like me need 

The sympathetic tear. 

Lord help me while I here remnin 

To guide my silly tongue, 
And may L never speak one word 

To hurt the old or young. 

Lord help me to be meek and mild. 

And harmless as a d 'Ve. 
Dear Lord, do all my faults supplant 

With charity and love. 



45 

Lord help me while I tiavel through 

This dark, lone wildernes?, 
While storms burst o'er ray troubled soul 

And trials sore oppress. 

Lord help me when I long to sing 

My great Redeemer's praise, 
To bear the griefs it gives my soul, 

I have no voice to raise. 

Lord help me while I'm racked with pain, 
And gasping hard for breath, 

To throw my all in thy dear hands. 
Either in life or death. 

Lord help me when I come to di^^, 

To soar to heaven above. 
And with my friends enjoy thy .-^mile^ 

And sing redeeming love. 

TO MY ONLY DAUGHTER, MARY. 



1 • 



Love is a flower of sweetest Moom 
To us, while journeying to the tomb 
When pure, it never fades and dies. 
But bears rich fruit beyond th * sUes. 

Thy tender love and watchful c«re, 
Thy silent grief and secret prayer. 
All, all, are seen by Him above, 
Who give me such a child of love. 

Had I the gold of India's shore, 
You, my dear child, are worth much more. 
There is no love purer than thine. 
Except that glorious love Divine. 



40 

A jewel, or a precious jem, 

A royal robe or diadem, 

Is nothing when compared with thee, 

Thy pure unselfish love for me. 

That love will ripen on that shore; 
We hope to meet to part no more 
Though countless ages run their round. 
That love will still much more abound. 

Oh ! may this cheer you day by day. 
Though thorns do oft obstruct your way, 
Your mansions are prepared above ; 
There are many there you fondly love. 

Oh ! w^hen your trials press you sore, 
Think only of that blissful shore 
Where soon we hope with those w^e love, 
To bask in a Redeemer's love. 



LINES 

Composed during a great drought, and sung at 
Goshen church. It rained powerfully the next day. 

Dear Lord, do with thy sovereign power. 
Send on us all a copious shower. 
Our very earth doth cry for rain, 
Do, Lord, revive us all again. 

Thou God who made both earth and sky. 
Behold thy garden parched and dry; 
Thy children daily cry for rain, 
Do, Lord, revive us all again. 



47 

Have we, like Israel, gone astray ? 
And idols made of gold and clay ? 
May we no longer thus remain, 
Do, Lord, revive us all again. 

If pride has drawn us from our God, 
We should expect his chastening rod. 
May we to sin and pride be slain. 
Do, Lord, revive us all again. 

Lord, thou hast ever blessed our land. 
And prospered us with thy right hand; 
Oh ! may thy saving grace remain, 
Do, Lord, revive us all again. 

And while we ask for rain below, 
On us a shower of grace bestow; 
Oh ! may we never ask in vain. 
Do, Lord, revive us all again. 

LINES 

Composed for family worship. 

Dear Savior, while we kneel in prayer, 
Oh ! may thy quickening grace 

Teach us what sinful worms we are. 
And how to seek thy face. 

And when our sinful bodies lie. 

Upon our beds lorest. 
Oh ! may we on thy grace rely, 

To calm each troubled breast. 

And when on earth we kneel no more. 

To plead our sins forgiven, 
Do land us on bright Canaan's shore. 

To dwell with Thee in heaven. 



48 

LINES 

Composed during a protracted meeting at Old 
Goshen. 

Lord, do bless thy needy children, 

With thine all abounding grace. 
Do dispel our clouds of darkness, 

And reveal thy smiling face; 

Lord, revive u?. 

See our dearest friends around us. 

Standing on the brink of woe, 
Lord, do stop them by thy power. 

Now before they farther go; 

Lord, revive us. 

How it grieves our hearts to see them, 

Waste their precious lives in sin. 
While the blood of Christ is offered. 

To redeem and cleanse them in; 

Lord, revive us. 

Lord do work for none can hinder, 

Turn poor sinners while 'tis day, 
And pour out on us a blessing 

That will fill our hearts, I praj ; 

Lord, revive us. 

IN MEMORIAM. 

[Lydia, daughter of James and Susan M. Burrus, died Febru- 
ary, 1878, aud Julia, daughter of Darius and Frances Hackley, 
died I«Iovember, 1878.] 

So many loved ones are taken away. 
One after another, from day to day. 
Lydia and Julia both taken this year, 
My own listers' children and both so dear. 



49 

One left a father and the other a mother, 
And left behind them dear sisters and brothers. 
So many loved ones they left here to mourn, 
While they to an early grave have been borne. 

We will m'ss them both here in so many ways, 
They came often to cheer us in our sad and gloomy 

days. 
Oh 1 it wrings my sad heart, when I think of the past^ 
And how I have seen their dear faces the last. 

In the prime of life, in their jouthful bloom, 
With a few days of sickness they sank to the tomb. 
And both seemed to feel that death was so nigh, 
In the first of their sickness they said they would die«. 

Who would have thought that they, both so young. 
So full of life's pleasures and hopes so strong, 
Should have hurried away from ihe friends they love,. 
And been wafted away to bright mansions above. 

Yes, we trust they are gone to that heavenly shore, 
Where death, pain, and sorrow can reach them na 
more, 

Where joys ever more and treasures unknown. 

Are laid up in that country where the righteous ai e^ 
borne. 

May all the relations they have left here, I pray, 
Examine and see if they are ready to-day, 
"Be ye all likewise ready," for time swiftly flies, 
And the ungodly as well as the righteous oft dies. 

Oh ! think of the joys, our loved ones in heaven, 
Of that glorified throng, their sins all forgiven. 
Through boundless eternity then free from all care,. 
Our joy'll be complete for our Savior'll be there. 

D 



50 

LINES 

Composed for Mrs. M. B. Holt, upon being asked 
ao pray for her son. 

Miss Mily, could I oftener feel, 

The meltings of God's love, 
And taste the riches of that gra^e, 

Prepared for saints above; 

I then could bear mth fortitude. 

My sore afflictions here. 
Oh ! could I wrestle, Jacob like. 

Then God that prayer might hear. 

I also have a dirling son 

I've prayed for, day and night, 
But still he walks the road to death, 

Lord, help me pray aright. 

Dear Lord, I know the work is thine, 

The power and glory, too, 
As giving don't impoverish thee. 

Through life I'll look to you. 

Oh ! that I could once more behold 

Thy spirit's quickening power, 
-And see the lambs brought to the fold, 
Rf'joice from hour to hour. 

LINES 
'Composed for Miss Fannie Carpenter. 

Dear Fannie, you as well as I, 
Must soon or later fade and die. 
Oh ! have you sought a Savior's love, 
•And laid your treasures up above? 



51 

Dear Fannie, time will never wait, 
To-morrow it may be too late. 
Oh ! how the wheels of time roll on ; 
How swiftly days and years aie gone. 

Dear Fannie, while in youth and health. 

Lay up above great stores of wealth, 

For there alone you sure must feel. 

That thieves cannot break through and steal. 

Dear Fannie, may God's grace divine 
Be poured on that dear soul of thine ; 
And may the remnant of your dtjs 
Be spent in your Redeemer's praise. 

FOR THE ALBUM OF MISS ELIZA J. PENNEY. 

Dear cousin, must we 80 foon p irL ? 
Oh ! how it grievt-s my p )or s id heart. 
And must we part to meet no morv3 ? 
Or shall we meet on Canaan's shore ? 

Deir cousin, death is ever near, 

He calls our friends frona year to year. 

The most afflicted often stay 

While death sweeps youth and health away. 

Dear cousin, time is fleeting by; 
And you and I must surely d e. 
Oh! may the L^rd by sovereign grace 
Teach you to seek and find his face. 

Deir cousin, should th it grace be giv^en, 
Twill fit you for both earfh and heaven. 
And should afflictions press you sore, 
By faith you'll view a happier shore. 



52 



Dear cousin, fare you well awhile ; 
May sorrow seldom check that smile, 
But happiness and joy and love, 
Bestrew your path to realms above. 



A NEW YEARS GIFT FOR W. E. BELL, 1861 



Another year has run its round 
And will you, my dear son, 
Forsake the road that leads to death, 
And now fur glory run ? 

Another year hs run its round. 
Do help me praise the Lord. 
That he has spared you yet to turn, 
Now be his name adored. 

Another year has run its round. 
And you've had blessings rare; 
And now I beg you this new year. 
Begin a life of prayer. 

Another year has run its round 
And, oh ! that solemn thought, 
That we may die before its close. 
Should never be forgot. 

Another year has run its round. 
Do seek the Saviour's love, 
And try the remnant of your days 
To plead for joys above. 



53 

FOR W. E. BELL. 

Accidentally shot by Capt. Utterback, in 1861, 

Dear Lord, I thank and praise tby name, 
That thou hast spared my son 
And suffered not the shot to kill, 
That dear, that darling one. 

Dear Lord, pour out thy sovereign grace 
Upon his wayward heart; 
Mdy he tby tender mercies. feel. 
And from his sins depart. 

Dear Lord, thou know'st and thou alone 
How oft I've asked of Thee, 
To make my son aa heir of thine 
Through vast eternity. 

Dear Lord, into thy blessed hands 
Por more than twenty years, 
I have committed this dear son. 
With many prayers and tears. 

Dear Lord, I still will beg and plead, 
The remnant of my days ; 
That he and all my children dear, 
May learn to sound thy praise. 

Brethren and sisters in the Lord, 
Oh ! when you kneel in prayer. 
Remember this, my much loved son ; 
Ask his salvation there. 



54 

TO MISS SUSIE M. BURRUS. 

Dear Susie, may a Saviour's love 
Be lavished on you from above. 
Oh ! may you ever trust in God, 
And seldom need his chastening rod. 

Dear Susie, let not Satan's snares 
Wide spread, now catch you unawares; 
A weapon for him you should wear, 
Let it be daily secret prayer. 

Dear Susie, keep your armour bright^ 
For only while you pray you fight. 
Then may your aspirations rise. 
To God for strength beyond the skies.. 

Dear Susie, in God's grace now shine,. 
The store-house is the Lord divine; 
And may you now put on that dress, 
That lovely robe of righteousness. 

Dear Susie, his commands obey 
And walk that straight and narrow way ,- 
A pleasant path, with God above, - 
To guide you to that heaven of love. 

LINES 
To send with a photograph, written during the war. 

When you my image here behold. 

Oh, think of me, far, far away; 
My love for you cannot be told. 

No time can cause it to decay. 



55 

Your face and form I long to see, 

Though they are stamped upon my heart. 

Oh I must it, shall it ever be, 
That we must always stay apart ? 

If we should never meet below, 

Where sin and death and sorrow reign. 

May angels waft us to that shore, 

Where peace and joy and love remain. 



THE ANDERSON NEWS. 



May success crown the Anderson New?, 
The county should consider it a prize. 

Let it be careful to publish right views, 
And then 'twill be certain to rise. 

Anderson should her paper support ; 

If she dont — I wonder who will ? 
Let her try and she'll send it afloat 

On the breeze, as all good papers will. 

To husbands and fathers I appeal, 

Give this paper to your children and \\ives,, 
'Twould make things more cheerful at home ;. 

Home should be the joy of our lives. 

Sweet home ! how those words thrill the soul,. 
To live with the dear ones we love ; 

^Tis oft a reminder to me 

Of that home in bright mansions above. 



56 
A NEW YEAR'S PRAYER. 

January 1, 1876. 

Dear Heavenly Father, hear, I pray. 
My humble prayer this New Year's Day; 
Convert poor sinners everywhere, 
This long has been my daily prayer. 

The rich, the poor, the old and young. 
All who have heard Thy praises sung; 
And felt thy presence from above, 
Send to all such thy pardoning love. 

And all who strive from diy to day. 
Against Thy spirit. Lord I pray, 
Do touch and tender, with Tny love. 
And fit them for Thy realms above. 

Send forth Thy gospel far and near. 
That all the heathen lands may hear; 
Send forth Thy banner, all unfurled, 
To sinners throughout the entire world. 

Especially to the Indian race. 
Lord wilt thou send Thy saving grace ; 
Our land wag once their hunting ground ; 
Ne'er had they heard the gospel sound. 

But may Thy gospel reach them now. 
And to Thy scepter may they bow ; 
Push on the conquests of Thy Son, 
And may Thy glorious work go on. 

Sad are the tidings we do hear; 
So many preachers died last year. 
Lord, raise up, fit and qualify. 
Two in eaoh place when one shall die. 



57 

Keep Brother Buckner from all harm, 
Support him with thine own right arm ; 
And may the Indian and the white, 
Ask blessings for him d^y and night. 

Lord, bless his wife and children too ; 
For much hard work they have ti do. 
It often makes our burdens light 
To feel and know we're doing right. 

O Lord, bless all, I humbly pray. 
Who aid the Indians in any way ; 
Send forth Thy spirit's power, Lord, 
Then g'adly they'll receive Thy word. 

And when death comes, God of love, 
Keceive our souls in heaven above; 
There, all together we will sing, 
And make the heavenly arches ring. 

CONDOLENCE. 

February 18, 1878. 

My dear son and daughter, with a sad aching heart, 
All burdened with sorrow, with our darling to part; 
I sympathize with you, at the foot of the Cro^s, 
And pray God to help you, to bear your great loss. 
Oh! how we will miss that precious sweet smile, 
That bright Open face, so free from all guile, 
On his high noble forehead, you only need look 
To read his pure heart, like a wide open book. 
So pure and so lovely was that darling son, 
It seems as if all hearts by magic he won : 



68 

His ways were £0 winning, so pleasant and mild, 
How can we give up our dear boy child ? 
Oh I death why so soon snatch away him we love, 
Could'st thou spare him no longer from the mansion 

above ? 
God gave him and took him to the realms of the blest,, 
In the bosom of Jesus, forever to rest. 
Oh ! was it because we all loved him so well, 
He was taken away to bright mansions to dwell? 
If so, may it teach us, our home is not here, 
And without Jesus' love, we can never go there. 
Oh ! may we not murmur, for him it is best. 
For while we here suffer, his soul is at rest; 
He is free from the sorrow, temptation and pain 
That we all fall heir to, while here we remain. 
There with his dear sister, and so many more. 
And our own darling loved ones, long years gone be- 
fore. 
Enjoying the sunshine of Jesus' love. 
In possession of the treasures Christ has laid up 

above. 
And all of his friends can be saved, everyone, 
If they will trust in the Savior for what he has done^ 
And accept offered mercy before it is too late, 
To them will be opened the heavenly gate. 
Oh! who cin conceive of the raptures of heaven. 
Of that great multitude, with their sins all forgiven,. 
Where death, pain and sorrow are aU in the past, 
And where peace, love and joy eternally last. 
Oh ! let us make haste and be ready to go, 
If we have Jesus' love we can leave all below, 
Oh ! death, pain and sorrow, when I bid you farewell^ 
I hope then to meet our sweet John Mat Bell. 



59 

A TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF JOSEPHINE 
WALLACE BELL, 

Born Sept. 8, 1869.; died Feb. 16, 1875. 

Another little angel is wafted away 
To that heavenly land where the righteous stay. 
She's now with her kindred, long gone before; 
And is waiting to welcome the rest to that shore. 

Oh ! how we will miss thy dear swift running feet;. 
Thy loving embraces and kisses so sweet! 
Thy sweet magic tongue, chasing away gloom ! 
Ofc leaving sunshine and smiles in its room. 

Dear little sufferer, freed from all pain, 
With Christ and his angels iorever to reign. 
Oh ! how I did envy that beautiful clay 
In its sweet purity, as it lifeless lay. 

Oh ! give us to feel, dear Father, I pray, 
'Tie all for the best that she's taken away; 
Prepare all to meet her, her father and mother. 
Her three little sisters and dear baby brother. 

Her grandpa and grandma, they love her eo well, 
Prepare them to meet her with angels to dwell. 
Her aunts and her uncles and friends by the score,. 
Prepare all to meet her on Canaan's bright shore. 

Lord give h?r dear parents thy strength day by day,. 

And give them thy arm to lean on, I pray. 

May they reach the mansions \\here she doth now 
dwell. 

Their own little angel, Josephine Wallace Bell. 



60 

A TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF MRS. SALLIE 
ANN FERRY, 

Wife of Elder S. S. Perr5\ 

Our sister dear, whom friends did love, 
Has left them here for realms above ; 
Her sore afflictions now are past, 
And she has reached her home at last. 

Cho. — May we meet; may we meet, 
In heaven above ; the thought how sweet! 
0, may we ever watch and pray, 
And walk by faith from day to day. 
May we meet, may we meet 
In Heaven above ; the though*-, how sweet ! 

She left her husband here in grief; 
Dear Lord do come to his relief. 
And help him preach a Savior's love, 
Until they meet in heaven above. 

Cho.— May they meet ; may they meet, etc. 

She left an only infant boy ; 
Lord guide him safe to realms of joy. 
O miy he walk in wisdom's waj^s 
And sound aloud a Savior's praise. 

Cho. — May they meet; may they meet, etc. 

She left her parents fall of years. 
Without a child to soothe their cares ; 
Lord may they on thy grace rely, 
And in thy service live and die. 

Cho. — May they meet; may they meet, etc. 



61 

She left an only niece behind. 
may she seek and Jesus find, 
And in her health and youthful blocm 
Prepare to live beyond the tomb. 

Cho.— May they meet; may they meet, etc. 

She left her friends and kindred dear 
To mourn awhile, and sorrow here ; 
But may they meet on Canaan's shore 
Where Christians meet to part no mere. 

Cho.— May they meet; may they meet, etc. 

May 1, I860. 

TO DANCING CHRISTIANS. 

'Tis sweet to hear the gospel sound 

Is spreading far and wide ; 
But then I hear, Oh ! sad to tell ! 

That many do backslide. 

Ye dancing, revelling, playing ones, 

Yoa who profess God's love ; 
Oh ! do you by your actions prove 

Your treasures are above ? 

Now if you have your treasures there, 

Do turn your backs on sin. 
And show this wicked world you love 

The cause you've 'listed in. 

Do every form of evil shun, 

All revels, balls and plays, 
For Satan keeps his nets wide spread 

In all enticing ways. 



02 

Oh ! be not thus a stumbling block ! 

Lest sinners by you fall ; 
As with a lighted cmdle, search 

If you love Christ at all. 

[The above lines are upon the follov/ing Scriptures : "Let us 
walk honestly as in the day ; not in rioting and drunkenness ; not 
in chambering and wantonness; not in strife and envying. But put 
ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, 
to fulfill the lusts thereof." — Rom. xiii : 13, 14. 

" Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are these: 
Adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witch- 
craft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, here- 
sies, envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings and such like, of 
the which I tell you before, as I have also told you in time past, 
that they which do such things shall not inherit the Kingdom of 
God."— Gafl. v: 19, 20, 21 ] 



TO W. E. BELLL, 

Who presented his mother a dress. 

My son, there's no words can express 
My surprise and gratitude, too; 

For that much-valued beautiful dress 
Presented to your mother by you. 

I had no expectations like this 

From my son with his houseful of cares 



With his wife and his children to dress 



That he should care what his old mother wears. 

As I feel you are not able to give, 
I appreciate your present much more. 

<joi bless you my liberal boy, 

Forever in your basket and store. 



63 

My arms are too short you well know, 
To give jou the dress you should wear; 

Oh'! will you Christ's mercy accept ? 
You know it has long been my prayer. 

The Savior still knocks at your heart, 
And freely he offers that dress. 

That all of His children must wear — 
That robe of Christ's own righteousness. 

TO FRANKIE BELL. 

You ask me to remember you ; 
Y^ou know, dear child, that I will do, 
It matters not how far away, 
I'll not forget you for a day. 
You'll learn remembrance never proves 
A task to anyone who loves. 
I often think of you and Son, 
Annie and Johnnie Mattie, too ; 
And wish that I cmld often be 
Where I could your loved faces see. 
IBut soon we'll meet on earth no more ; 
Miy we all meet on Canaan's shore. 

TO MISS POLLY ODELL, 

Who loaned the Author The Life of Christ. 

Composed for her I greatly prize, 
And hope to meet beyond the skies, 
With many loved ones gone before, 
We'll sing and shout, our sufferings o'er. 

The life of Christ, sweet life of love, 
Should all our tender passions move. 
And while the Lord spares us, I pray. 
Oh ! may we his commands obey. 



64 

Could we like him, be meek and mild, 
Revile not when we were reviled, 
But bear our cross, remembering he 
Did bear much more on Calvary. 

Dear Savior give me strength to pray, 
To bear my burden every day, 
Thy sufferings here were more than mine^ 
And Thou the Son of God Divine. 

Oh! could I oftener look at thee, 
And all my imperfections see ; 
Though enemies beset my road, 
I feel^ I know, I trust in God. 

Oh! how I thank thee for that hope 
That bears my fainting spirits up. 
It is the anchor to my soul. 
While raging billows o'er me roll. 

It often lifts my spirits high ; 

I love to think then death is nigh. 

Oh, death! how solemn, but how sweet! 

Beyond the grave with Christ to meet! 

Death is but going home to those 
Who in God's arms of love repose. 
Oh! glorious thought! beyond the skies. 
No sin, no imperfections rise. 

But there like him who knew no sir. 
We a new life of love begin. 
Another happy thought to me, 
God's children live eternally. 



65 

Oh, happy thought ! it gives me joy, 
This wicked world cannot destroy, 
That when we reach bright Canaan's shore. 
Our trials, then, will all be o'er. 

FOR MRS. MARTHA KEACH. 

It seems we'll never meet again 

While traveling through this world of pain. 

I'd love to talk our sufferings o'er 

And prospects for a brighter shore. 

If you could know what I have felt 
Since we last met, your heart would melt. 
There's one that knows and one alone, 
How much this aching heart has borne. 

I am but mortal here below, 
An awful erring one I know. 
But never willingly would I 
Cause a poor soul a tear or^sigh. 

My nature is to speak my mind, 
Though I would never be unkind, 
And as I hope for heavenly rest, 
I hold no malice in my breast. 

That glorious hope supports my soul 
While raging billows o'er me roll. 
No enemies can take away 
My prospects for a better day. 

This hope has been my stay for years 
Through many joys and griefs and fears. 
Sometimes I almost soar on high 
I feel my Savior is so nigh. 



66 

Sometimes I am beset with sin 
And feel there is a sink within. 
But then I to my Savior cry 
Until I feel his presence nigh. 

And when I lie beneath the sod, 

As soon I must, I trust in God, 

To meet my friends who are gone before 

To live with Christ forevermore. 

LINES 

Composed after the Lord had spared W. E. Bell 
through the Hartsville and Murfreesborough battles. 

Dear Lord, from thy lofty abode. 

Behold thy dear children in grief. 
Come, come to their help, dearest Lord, 

None other can give them relief. 

Chorus.— Have mercy, have mercy, Lord; 
Have mercy on my darling son ; 
Oh ! give him to trust in thy blood, 
As many poor sinners have done. 

Dear Lord, send thy spirit this hour. 
Dispel those dark clouds from our land ; 

There's nothing on earth has the power. 
Our help's in thine Almighty hand. 

Clio. — Have mercy, have mercy, Lord, etc. 

Deir Lord, when his friends are mown down, 

As farmers oft mow down their hay. 
And he is almost left alone. 

May he trust in Jesus, I pray. 

Clio. — Have mercy, have mercy, Lord, etc. 



67 

Dear Lord, I do bless thy great name, 
Through sickness and sorrow and death, 

While he for so many must mourn, 
That thou hast protracted his breath. 

Cho.— Have mercy, have mercy, Lord, etc. 

When he saw brave Hanson cut down. 

With so many friends he did love. 
Oh ! did he not call on the Lord 

To fit them for for heaven above ? 
Cho. — Have mercy, have mercy, Lord, etc. 

Dear Lord, stop this deluge of blood. 

If only consistent with thee. 
And where utter ruin now lies, 

May peace and tranquility be. 
Cho. — Have mercy, have mercy, Lord, etc. 

A PEACE OFFERING. 

Written during the War. 

May we unite in bands of love, 

Kentucky, Oh ! Kentucky I 
And ask for wisdom from above, 

Kentucky, Oh ! Kentucky! 
Now may we lift eur weeping eyes. 
To God who made both earth and skies, 
That he would make a compromise, 

Kentucky, Oh ! Kentucky ! 

For he alone has power, I fe )1, 

Kentucky, Oh ! Kentucky! 
To change the many hearts of steel, 

Kentucky, Oh ! Kentucky ! 



68 

We have like Israel gone astray, 
And idols made of gold and clay, 
We all should turn to God to-day. 

Kentucky, Oh! Kentucky! 

Oh ! what a people we had betn, 

Kentucky, Oh ! Kentucky 

Had we not turned aside to sin, 

Kentucky, Oh ! Kentucky 

Oh ! what an awful sight to me ! 

Our glorious country here should be 

A battle ground where all can see ! 

Kentucky, Oh ! Kentucky ! 

Father and son contend in strife, 

Kentucky, Oh! Kentucky! 
Brother can take a brother's life, 

Kentucky, Oh ! Kentucky ! 
Oh ! how poor mother's hearts are torn, 
And wives such anguish long have borne 
As never will by men be known. 

Kentucky, Oh ! Kentucky ! 

Now if poor women had the i ower, 

Kentucky, Oh ! Kentucky ! 
They'd stop this wicked war this hour, 

Kentucky, Oh ! Kentucky ! 
Some men have wicked hearts we know. 
And cause their brother's blood to flow. 
The day of judgment we shall know, 

Who caused this. Oh ! Kentucky ! 

Our hearts now bleed at every pore, 

Kentucky, Oh ! Kentucky ! 

The killed and wounded 's in our door, 

Kentucky, Oh ! Kentucky ! 



69 

Our best and noblest sons have died, 
And anguish is on every side ; 
Oh who will stop destruction's tide, 

Kentucky, Oh ! Kentucky ! 

If war goes on we must go down, 

Kentucky, Oh ! Kentucky ! 
I fear we'll have the monarch's crown, 

Kentucky, Oh ! Kentucky ! 
Oh! it is strange that men can't see 
If they go on, what we shall be, 
Ob ! awfal, awful destiny, 

Kentucky, Oh ! Kentucky ! 

Oh ! should we not unite our cry ? 

Kentucky, Oh ! Kentucky ! 
That God would bring salvation nigh, 

Kentucky, Oh ! Kentucky ! 
liike Jacob, we should humbly pray. 
And wrestle till the break of day, 
That Grod would wash our sing away. 

And give us peace, Kentucky ! 

TO W. B. BELL. 

During the War. 

How I miss thee at home ; Oh ! I m'ss thee ! 

At morning, at noon and at night. 
When friends come^ Oh ! then how I miss thee, 

The friends in whom you did delight. 
And when I call on them for singing, 

So mournful and sad is the sound. 
Without thy dear voice to help them, 

It opens afresh every wound. 



70 

How I miss thee at home ; Oh ! I miss thee ! 

I miss thee each day and each night. 
Oh ! how thy dear presence would cheer me 

And fill my sad heart with delight. 
Oh ! how many gloomy, sad Sabbaths, 

And Saturday evenings I've past, 
While listening in vain for your footstep?, 

And fearing I'd heard them my last. 

How I miss thee my darling, I miss thee ! 

There's no one could miss thee like me. 
No one so oft watched for thy coming 

And longed thy dear face so to see. 
And should I on earth never meet thee, 

Oh ! may we meet on Canaan's bright shore 
May those you love meet you in glory, 

With Christ, and those long gone before. 

A TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF JOHN W. 

BUTTS. 

For his Mother. 

Sweet morning flower, so soon cut down ! 

Before its opening bloom 
Developed all its loveliness ; 

It's mouldering in the tomb. 

'Tis thus the fairest flowers that bloom^ 

Though dead to mortal eyes. 
Are borne away on angel's wings 

To blossom in the skies. 

But mourn not for that much loved one,. 

For him we know 'tis best. 
While daily you have grief and pain. 

This spirit is at rest. 



71 

That he's at rest, in that sweet thought 

Are many joys combined 
To make you bear your suffering here, 

And to God's will resigned. 

And as you journey to the grave. 
Oh ! may your hopes be bright 

That you may meet that precious son 
In realms of pure delight. 

I, too, have flowers of sweetest bloom 

In that celestial land. 
Washed white in Christ's atoning blood, 

And nurtured by his hand. 

And I can sympathize with you, 

I've felt the chastening rod, 
And have no other refuge left 

But in the grace of God. 

Oh ! may you and your children all 

Be made by saving grace, 
Fit subjects for that better clime, 

And for God's smiling face. 

And when you kneel in humble prdyer 
To plead for thee and thire, 

Do ask that Christ's own righteousness 
May cover me and mine. 

And now dear friends, farewell awhile. 

Oh ! may we meet above, 
Where falling tears are wiped away, 

And all are peace and love. 



72 

FOR MISS SALLIE BURRUS. 

Miss Sallie, may you here enjoy, 

This world, with all its charms. 
May gold, with every earthly good 

Be clasped within your arms. 

May earthly pleasures most refined, 

Be lavished on you here. 
May all your friends prove true and kind 

With constancy sincere. 

Oh! miy your pith bs strewed with flowers 

Of the most fragrant bloom, 
And the most joyous singing birds 

Be heard about your r jom. 

This worM with its delusive dress 

Of pompous pride and show. 
All these cm't fit your soal to live 

In that bright world you know. 

Should all the pleasures earth cin give. 

Without redeeming grace. 
Be constantly at your command. 

They're not worth heiven at last. 

FOR TWO SCHOOL GIRLS, MISSES LUELLA 
KENNEDY AND ALICE BIRDWHISTELL. 

At their request. 

Dear girls I know not what to write, 
To fill your young hearts with delight. 
Were I to write of birds and flowers, 
Of shady groves and lovely bowers. 
Of various kinds of evergreen, 



73 

Which in perfection you had seen, 
'Twould only be a waste of time 
To pleaie your fancies with my rhyme. 
But let me tell you of that shore, 
Where flowers fade and die no more ; 
B9caus9 they're planted by Grod's grace 
And nourished by His smiling face. 
There i3 a land where flowers bloom, 
When bodies moulder in the tomb ; 
Angelic spirits live above 
And bask in God's eternal love. 
Now is the t'me that God has given. 
To fit your souls to bloom in heaven. 
Let me entreat you while 'tis day, 
The glorious Gospel to obey. 
To-day if you will hear his voice. 
He'll make your youthful hearts rejoice. 
But if you carelessly should wait, 
To-morrow, it may be too late. 
Do seek that city paved with gold, 
Where angels chant in joyful lays. 
Eternally our Savior's praise. 
Where friends will meet, no more to part 
And anguish cinnot reach the heart. 
Where free from s'n and death and pain. 
They'll with their Lord in glory reign. 
Oh ! may you both by Sovereign Grace 
Beach that most happy blissful place, 
I long have hoped to gain thit shore 
When all my sufferings here are o'er. 



74 
A MOTHER'S LOVE. 

To my Daughter. 

Oh ! what is like a mother's love, 

So constant and so pure, 
Though children disobey commands. 

They know their pardon's sure. 

Her love seeks out their every wish, 
And with her faithful hands. 

She toils and strives incessantly 
To meet their great demands. 



A LAMENT FOR MR. AND MRS. S. H. PENNEY, 

On the death of their three sons in the Confederate Arniy> 

Farewell awhile, dear sons, farewell ! 

And must we part with all the three ? 

No more your voices shall we hear, 

Nor your loved faces shall we see. 

Oh ! how we hoped you'd be our stay 

In our now fast declining years. 

But death has called all three away 

And left us here in grief and tears. 

Far, far away from home you died, 

No mother's hand to wipe your tears. 

Nor sister there to comfort you, 

No father dear to soothe your cares. 

But glorious thought ! the Lord was there 

To ease the throbbing of each heart, 

To hear and grant their every prayer, 

From earthly friends, though far apart. 

Thy power and grace alone, dear Lord, 

Could cleanse and fit their souls for heaven; 



75 

Oh ! may that Grace have been applied. 
And all their sins by thee forgiven. 
Oh ! how mysterious are thy ways, 
Dear Lord of wisdom, light and love, 
Do reconcile us to thy will, 
And may we meet in heaven above. 
Oh ! may we meet on that bright shore, 
Where sickness, sorrow, death and pain 
Will have no power to part us more. 
Where all will be eternal gain. 
All tears will then be wiped away 
By the Almighty's gracious hand. 
Dear Lord, do grant our children all, 
Witti us may reach that " Better land." 

A TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF EDMUND 
JORDAN, 

Who was killed in the Confederate Army. 

Kentucky has lost another son ; 

Another valued life is done, 

From day to day we hear the cry. 

Another's dead, or .= oon must die. 

Another mother's heart is torn, 

Her youngest son from her is borne 

Away into a distant land. 

By strangers laid beneaththe sand. 

He died upon the battlefield, 

Where death bis mighfy power doth wield 

'Mid din of arms and mortal strife, 

Like thousands lot his dear young life. 

He flourished Jike a tree in June, 

Nor could we think he'd die so soon, 



76 

That vigorous plant, that lovely flower, 
Cut down and withered in an hour. 
May God by his Almighty power, 
Have borne him in that dying hour 
With those who cross that swelling flood. 
With garments washed in Jesus' blood. 
Dear Lord, do soothe his parents' cares. 
And wipe away their falling tears, 
And give them grace to reach that shore 
Where pain and parting are no more. 
Oh ! give their children saving grace ; 
May they all seek and find thy face 
So when their suft'erings all are o'er, 
They'll meet on Canaan's blissful shore. 

LINES 

Composed for two wandering " Rebel " boys, T. 
R. Jordan and Bob Cressop, in great haste. 

May God protect and bless you, too. 
As long as you the right pursue. 
And be your ever present friend, 
On him alone you should depend. 
Oh ! may he be your constant guide 
And be your wall on every side ; 
Oh ! may his grace and boundless love 
Be poured upon you from above, 
That grace alone prepares the heart 
From earthly cares, with joy to part; 
Oh! if that grace you should possess 
Your joy you never can express. 
That grace will fit you for that shore 
Where loved ones long have gone before. 
Farewell ! Oh, may we meet again, 
If not on earth when freed from pain. 



77 
FOR SARAH BELL GRITTON, 

Upon getting a prize at school. 

Dear Sarah Bell, another prize 
You now should try to win, 
If you have not commenced the race, 
Oh ! do this day begin. 
Without the saving grace of God 
That prize you'Jl never win ; 
Then go to Christ without delay. 
To cleanse you from all sin, 
That grace will be your constant ^tay. 
Though trials press you sore, 
'Twill be the anchor to your soul 
While raging billows roar. 
That prize is worth to every soul 
Ten thousand worlds like this, 
Then strive with all your soul to gain 
A home in heavenly bliss. 

FOR MRS. MISSOURI PENNEY, 

After losing her husband, and other troubles. 1861. 

Dear sister. Oh ! that I could say 
Something to soothe your mind ; 

Something to make you feel at rest, 
And to your fate resigned. 

I know your trials have been great. 
You've lost your dearest friend ; 

You still have food and raiment left. 
On God you should depend. 



78 

Behold our land now bathed in blood, 
Dear husbands by the score, 

Our sons and brothers numberless 
All weltering in their gore. 

Think of the orphans in distress, 

And widow's cry for bread, 
Have we more righteousness than they 

That we are clothed and fed ? 

Oh, no! but God's great mercy brought 
Those blessings to our door; 

Oh ! may we on his grace rely 
And plead his blessings more. 

That grace alone has power to cleanse 

And keep us from all sin, 
'Tis that alone prepares the soul, 

That heavenly race to win. 

Now on the Lord cast all your cares, 

And plead for saving grace ; 
You need this grace each hour you live 
To fill a mother's place. 

And may you train your children dear. 
While in their youthful days. 

To love and fear the Lord most high, 
And sound his glorious praise. 

And when death comes, as soon it must, 
And you shall close your eyes. 

May angels waft your spirit home 
To mansions in the skies. 



A MOTHER'S LAMENT FOR MRS. SUSAN MARY 

■ HAWKINS. 

Why should I mourn, dear darling one ? 

Thy troubles all are past, 
And o'er thy much-loved form and face 

The hue of death is cast. 
Yes, thou shalt slumber in thy grave 

Till God shall bid thee rise, 
And with that glorious blood- washed throng 

Thou'lt blossom in the skies. 

Not one more sorrow wilt thou feel, 

Thy troubles all are past ; 
I know thou'rt happier far than we 

Whose tears fall thick and fast. 
It wrings my heart to part with thee 

Although I know 'tis best. 
Dear Lord do wipe away my tears 

And ease this throbbing breast. 

Eor thou alone hast power, Lord, 

To heal the broken heart. 
That glorious hope supports my soul, 

We'll meet no more to part. 
Oh ! may I meet my Greorgie deir 

On that Celestial shore, 
With many other darling friends 

To live for evermore. 

FOR MISS LIZZIE PRICE. 

Dear Lizzie, though so long apart. 
Yet still you twine about my heart ; 
No earthly power this band can sever, 
Nor mortal foe, never, no never. 



80 

Dear Lizzie, it is hard to me, 
To think your face no more I'll see, 
No more to meet those lovely eyes. 
And hear that voice 1 so much prize. 

Dear Lizzie, may God's blessings flow 
Around your path where'er you go. 
May charity with her sweet face 
Adorn you with her every grace. 

Dear Lizzie, may your friends prove true 
While this vain world you're passing through; 
May every blessing earth can give 
Be lavished on you while you live. 

Dear Lizzie, may God's grace be given 
To fit you for both earth and heaven; 
May Christ adorn you with Lis dress, 
His spotless robe of righteousness. 

Dear Lizzie, may we meet above 

With all our friends we so much love, 

Eternity would not seem long 

With Christ and his dear blood-washed throng. 

Dear Lizzie, when you kneel in prayer, 
I hope you'll not forget me there ; 
Dear darling one, now fare you well. 
Think oft of your aunt M. A. Bell. 

FOR MISS BETTIE CARPENTER. 

Dear Bettie, may a light from heaven 

Forever o'er thy pathway shine. 
Far from thy sky may clouds be driven, 

Be choicest blessings ever thine. 



81 

May friends prove constant, true and kind 
Along this dark lone wilderness, 

And you can always comfort find 
In Christ, when you are in distress. 

Yes, he alone can comfort give 

When fl ods of sorrow o'er you roll, 

And while you in his service live 
He will support your troubled soul. 

Oh I happy thought, there is a place, 
Beyond this world of sin and pain, 

We shall behold our Savior's face. 
And with our Lord in glory reign. 

Oh ! may we meet in that fair land 
With all our friends we love so well. 

For there none take the parting hand 
Where Christ and angel spirits divell. 

E're long, dear Bettie, I must say. 
Farewell to all on earth I love ; 

Oh ! now and then in secret pray 
We all may meet in realms above. 



82 

NOTE BY THE EDITOR. 

The author of this book was a Kentuckian ; her parents were 
slave-holders, and so was she. From the beginning of the war 
she believed that the slavery question was the cause of the war. 
The only son that she had that was old enough to go to the war 
enlisted in the Southern cause at the beginning of the war and re- 
mained until the war closed. She read her Bible a great deal, and 
she thought that according to her Bible slavery was right. She 
was a woman of very strong convictions ; therefore, the poetry 
that she wrote during the war was, some of it, intensely Southern 
in sentiment. 

A CALL FOR VOLUNTEERS. 

Come on brave boys and join us 
To "make the Yankees git," 
For them to take our rights away 

We never will submit. 
We'll run them o'er mountains 
And fight them on the plain, 
And never will be conquered 
While life and health remain. 
Chorus. — Jump into the wagon, 

This old Southern wagon, 
Dear Lord guide the wagon 
And the Yankees we'll outride. 

We'll rally 'round our standard 

Of freedom once again, 
And call on God to help us 

To avenge our noble slain. 
Our wives and children perish 

Beneath the monster's hand. 
Our wealth by fire they do consume 

And desolate our land. 

Cho. — Jump into the wagon, etc. 



83 

who will not now join us 
To drive the deathless foe, 

They've long our land invaded 
And caused much blood to flow. 

The ladies bravely help us, 
They work with great delight; 

They knit and sew and weave and spin 
While we for them must fight. 

Cho. — Jump into the wagon, etc. 

1 know you boys will help us, 
Just from the lion's den, 

Where Yankees boast their equals 

Are black, not rebel men. 
You'll fight like tigers now you're free 

From prison walls once more, 
The god of battles keep you from 

The fate you had before. 

Cho. — Jump into the wagon, etc. 

Now here is brave John Morgan 

Just from a prison cell. 
Chuck full of "Yankee notions." 

His barbers, they may tell 
His strength is not like Sampson's 

In the locks that have been shorn, 
But in his arms and heart it lies, 

In the head his locks has borne. 
Cho. — Jump into the wagon, etc. 

And Forest, too, will help us 
With his mighty rebel band. 

His name has been a terror 
All over the Yankee land; 



84 

Old Price is still among us, 

His mighty power to wield, 
And Breckenridge with thousands more 

Is on the battlefield. 

Cho. — Jump into the wagon, etc. 

Old Kirby Smith and Johnson, 

Each leads a noble b nd, 
And Early, too, is driving 

The invader fri m our land. 
There are Maimaduke and Buckner 

With rebels by the score. 
And while the negroe's in the fight 

God will send us thousarids more. 

Cho. — Jump into the wagon, etc. 

Brave Beauregard at d Lee are men 
Whose names will never dip, 
God has blessed their noble souls 

With wisdom from on high. 

Still be their strength their armour, 

Their heliEet and their shield, 
Fight all their battles for them 

While they are on the field. 

Cho. — Jump into the wagon, etc. 

We rel els fight for freedom — 

Freedom for all the whites. 
Freedom for wives and ch-ldren 

In whom each one delights ; 
For sisters, sweethearts, mothers, 

Whose loved ones have been slain, 
And if we put our trust in God 

The victory we will gain. 
Cho. — Jump into the wagon, etc. 



85 

JEFF DAVIS IS OUR LEADER. 

We'll rally 'round Jeff Davis, boys, we'll rally once 
again. 
Shouting Jeff Davis is our leader ! 
We'll rally from each hillside, we'll gather from each 
plain. 
Shouting, Jeff Davis is our leader ! 
Our ever faithful friend; hurrah ! boy?!, hurrah ! 
Up with Jeff Davis, and down with Old Abe, 
And we'll rally 'round our Jeff, bays, we'll rally once 
again, 
Shouting, Jeff Davis is our leadr! 

We are coming from the east, boys, we are coming 
from the west. 
Shouting Jeff Davis is our leader! 
We'll supp:)rt him 'till we die, the man that we love 
best. 
Shouting Jeff Davis is our leader ! 
We will our rights maintain, hurrah ! boys, hurrah ! 

Up with Jeff Davis and down with Old Abe, 
And we'll rally 'round our Jeff, boys, we'll rally once 
again, 
Shoudng, Jeff Davis is our leader! 

We'll rally 'round our standard with Jeff Davis at 
our head, 
Shouting Jeff Davis is our leader ! 
And now he takes the field to avenge our noble 
dead. 
Oh ! Jeff Davis is our leader! 
We will show the negro's fight, hurrah ! boys, hurrah ! 
Down with the stripes and up with the bars, 



86 

And we'll rally 'round our Jeff, boys, we'll rally once 
again, 
Shouting Jeff Davis is our leader ! 

We'll fight the Abolish in every shape and form, 

Shouting, Jeff Davis is our leader ! 
We ask the help of God, through every calm and 
storm, 

Shouting Jeff Davis is our leader ! 
Defeat to Abolitionists, hurrah I boys, hurrah ! 

Up with Jeff Davis and down with Old Abe, 
We'll rally 'round our Jeff, boys, we'll rally once 
again, 

Shouting Jeff Davis is our leader ! 

SOMETHING SPICY FOR ABRAHAM. 

There dwelt in Babylon of old 
Some mighty kings wicked and bold. 
They ruled their subjects with a rod 
And set themselves above our God. 
They did decree, with solemn vow. 
All men should to their idols bow ; 
But some feared God far more than they 
And their decree did disobey. 
So Shadrach, Meshac and Abednego 
In a fiery furnace they did throw, 
But Israel's God whom we admire 
Did save them from the smell of fire. 
King Darius with his wicked men 
Threw Daniel in the lion's den ; 
But Daniel's was a glorious cause 
And God sealed up the lion's jaws. 
Then Darius threw those wicked men 



87 

With wives and children in that den. 

The lions, 'mid their cries and groans, 

Did, in a moment, break their bones. 

'Tis thus king Lincoln rules our land 

And deals out vengeance with his hand. 

,Tis thus our land in rivers run 

With blood of father, brother, son. 

He speaks, and none dare tell him nay. 

He makes men their best friends to slay, 

And if with him you disagree 

The prison walls you sure will see. 

He tears the husband from his wife 

And forces him to deadly strife. 

From day to day we hear the cry, 

"Give men and money or you die." 

Not like the wicked kings of old 

Has he set up a god of gold. 

Negro equality is his God, 

And white men feel his iron rod. 

A curse was laid on Ham, and all 

The colored race, both great and small; 

But Lincoln spurns God's firm decree 

And vows he'll set the negro free. 

He will not suffer such a race 

To ser^e the whites ; he'll change the case. 

He sways his sceptre day and night 

To blend the colors black and white. 

God made them black with kinky hair, 

But made the race of Japheth fair. 

Yet Lincoln, with his men in arms, 

Extols the blicks' superior charms. 

He'll set God's botchwork now to rights 

By slaying brave and noble whites. 

And elevate that sable race 



That since the flood has borne disgrace. 

King Lincoln makes his subjects bow 

To negro equality anyhow. 

It is not lawful now to say 

A negro servant shall obey, 

But white men all must suffer now 

Who will not to that idol bow. 

His agents now his prisons fill 

To bend the white man to his will. 

America! land of love ! 

Like the great eagle, soared above. 

All other nations called thee great, 

But show no pity for thy fate. 

America! a land so blessed, 

Now of all others most distressed. 

The dearest ties of human blood 

Flow o'er thee daily, like a flood. 

This land so fallen, Grod did bless 

While men their servants did possess, 

God sent no revelation here 

To break the union bond so dear; 

But Northern bigots all can see. 

The South should set her servants free 

In their black idol they delight, 

Against this rebels sure will fight. 

Against this Sauthern blood rec dls, 

For this king Abe will take their spoils. 

Oh ! what an awful, awful state ! 

God help us ere it is too late. 

God sure will break this tyrant's band. 

And free the whites all o'er our land. 

The king now totters on his throne 

And Abolition m^n will groan. 

God will make Lincoln yet to feel, 



89 

Though his compound are ice and steel. 

Like Nebuchadnezer on his throne 

He feels the world is all his own. 

But God did bring strange things to pass ; 

He made this great king feed on gra^s. 

His hair, like eagle's f^jathers grew, 

He grazed with the ox and was wjt with dew. 

His heart was changed to a beas' of the field, 

Taough none like him such power did wield; 

Yet God, by his Almighty power, 

Dethroned this king within an hour. 

Oh! glorious thought I God reigns on high, 

And sure will hear his people's cry. 

A wail of anguish now doth rise, 

He'll hear and answer from the skies. 

He hears the widow's hopeless cry, 

To see her children starve and die. 

He sees the mother's bleeding he irt ; 

She from her only son must part. 

He hears the cry for thousands more 

To fill our land with blood and gore. 

God sees them go against their will, 

Their best and noblest friends to kill. 

Dear Lord cut short King Lincoln's reign 

And give us joy and peace again. 

May he like King Belshazz'^r fall. 

And see thy handwrite on the wall. 

TO THE ABOLITIONISTS. 

You advocates of equal rights. 

You have much more to do; 
You'll have to make the Negro whie 

B jfore you are quite through. 



90 

Chorus. — Work on, work on, 

Your job is still undone; 
He still is black with kinky hair ; 
Change all, if you change one. 

You'll have to set his foot on right, 

And raise the instep, too, 
And change his lovely mouth and nose 

Before your job will do. 
Cho. — Work on, etc. 

Then change his dark and piercing eyes, 

And make them soft and blue. 
And when you straighten out his locks 

Give them a flaxen hue. 
Cho. — Work on. etc. 

And when you get the outward man, 

Thus lovely to your sight, 
Oh! then begin the inside work 

And try to fix that right. 

Cho. — Work on, etc. 

That God created him to serve 

The white man, must be true, 
Now if you raise him from that sphere 

His intellect won't do. 
Cho. — Work on, etc. 

Oh ! is it right for men in power 

To enslave their own white race? 
The meaning of amalgamate 

Is ruin and disgrace. 

Cho. — Work on, etc. 



91 

Just as our stock all differ here, 

God made it so with man. 
The Negro is the lowest down, 

Now change him if you can. 

Cho. — Work on, etc. 

Just place him on the highest seat 

Our lofty rulers fill, 
And talk of equal rights each day, 

He'll be a Negro still. 
Cho.— Work on, etc. 

I've always been the Negro's friend. 

And shall be 'till I die ; 
They've waited on me all my life. 

And nursed my infancy. 

Cho. — Work on, etc. 

I've worked to clothe them day and night 

And thought it no disgrace. 
Bat never for one moment felt 

The equality of race. 
Cho. — Work on, etc. 

And like my own dear children, too, 

I've daily had them fed. 
And in afflictions wept and prayed 

Around their dying bed. 

Cho. — Work on, etc. 

Are you their friends who turn them out 

On this wide world to roim ; 
SDme few will work, while many s'eal; 

They've lo3t their friends and home. 
Cho. — Work on, etc. 



92 

And now I pray you Northern men, 

You rulers of our land, 
If you cannot God's work improve, 

You'd better let it stand. 

Cho.— Work on, etc. 

You'll never see that day on earth 
While the poor Negro 's free, 

That God will bless us as before. 
And all who live will see. 

Cho. — Work on, etc. 



THE ABOLITION WAGON. 

Come all emancipationists and listen to my song, 
Since God has made the Negro black it surely can't 

be wrong. 
To blot out the word Negro you all seem fully bent, 
Aid c ill them "Free Americ ms of African descent.' 
Chorus. — Jump into the wagon, the Abolition 
wagon, 
While Abe drives the wagon you'll 
have a tasty ride. 

And now Amalgam ationists, I'll speak a word to you. 
But you are so degraded 'tis hard ior me to do. 
To make the Negro equal in all things you are bent, 
The poor, dear "Free Americans of African descent.'* 
Cho. — Jump into the wagon, etc 

Now if you read your Bible, from Abraham of old, 
Y'ou'il find 1 ke sheep and oxen, servants were bought 
and sold; 



93 

But Abraham, the President, to make a change m 

bent. 
And free " The dear ilmericans of African descent.'^ 

Cho. — Jump into the wagon, etc. 

I've often read the Bible, but never did I see 

The command that Abe has given to set the servants 

free ; 
To free them here among us, his days and nights are 

spent, 
The wooly head "American's of African descent." 

Cho — Jump into the wagon, etc. 

'Tis strange when Christ was on the earth, he did not 

see such need 
Of killing all the masters that servants might be 

freed. 
But now the cry to free them from North to South is 

sent, 
The most beloved "Americans of African descent" 

Cho. — Jump into the wagon, etc. 

The savior taught all servants their master to obey. 
And if you wish to know his will, the Bible search, I 
pray; 

Since slavery's not forbidden, who has those good 

men sent 
To free these dear "American's of African descent?" 

Cho. — Jump into the wagon, etc. 

If all the blood of white men you kill with such de- 
light. 

Were saved to wash the Negro in, 'twould never 
make him white. 



94 

The most degraded beings God on his footstool sent, 
Are the much beloved ^'Americans of African de- 
scent." 
Cho. — Jump into the wagon, etc. 

THE OLD GUARD AND THE DAY-BOOK. 

The Old Guard and the Day-Book, 

I read with much delight ; 
I'm glad in modern Sodom 

To find two men all right. 

Right on the Constitution, 

(With the patriotic few), 
Just as our fathers framed it, 

It's good enough for you. 

Right on " State Sovereignty," 

Like our valiant sires of old, 
When kindly trusting Puritans 

They thought not we'd be sold. 

Right on the Lincoln question 

The ''Abolish "and all. 
If these are not the "Anti-Christ " 

Then we'll have none at all. 

All right upon the Negro race, 

Sound Bible doctrine, too. 
And all they say of Puritans 

Is surely just and true. 

Now all who wish to read the truth 
Subscribe, though times are hard, 

And circulate among your friends 
The Day-Book and Old Guard. 



95 

My friends, your interests are at stake, 

It's time you should bestir, 
And advocate the cause that's right 

Like Vaneverie and Burr. 

A LAMENTATION. 

Written about the close of the war. 1865. 

Our harps are on the willows hung, 

America! America! 
Few songs of joy are o'er thee sung, 

America! America! 
The North her President doth mourn. 
The South all bleeding, prostrate, torn. 
And thy great name forever flown, 

America ! America ! 

Thy praise was on all nations' tongue, 

America ! America ! 
Thy blessings were for old and young, 

America ! America ! 
But now opression's in our land 
And war and bloodshed in thy hand, 
Thy children must ihy downfall stand, 

America ! America ! 

Oh ! that it was as in times past, 

America ! America ! 
Then heaven's bright smiles were o'er thee cast, 

America! America! 
But thou 80 great art fallen low. 
And thousands to their graves do go 
While sinking thee in endless woe, 

America ! America ! 



96 

Now Maximilian with h's band, 

America ! America ! 
Is stationed in thine own fa^'r land, 

America ! America ! 
Napoleon with his mighty hand 
May sway his scepter o'er our land ; 
We'll soon be weakened this to stand, 

America ! America ! 

No power will lend a helping hand, 

America ! America ! 
To bring back peace to thy dear land, 

America ! America ! 
Now foreign nations look with glee, 
Our countr^^'s ruin they would see. 
We're being what they'd have us be, 

America! Ameiica! 

While we each other do destroy, 

America! America! 
It gives to foreign nations joy, 

America ! America ! 
No other nation 'ere could be • 
Compared to this, beyond the sea. 
This once gre<t land of liberty, 

America! America! 

Their children's hearts are torn with grief, 

America ! America ! 
They cry to God for thy relief, 

America ! America ! 
Oh ! could they but with weeping eyes 
Wipe out thy stain before the skies. 
That thou might'st yet again arise, 

America ! America ! 



97 

Oh ! why not end this mortal strife, 

America! America! 
You've lavish been with human life, 

America ! America ! 
Thy sons, the bravest of the brave. 
Thou did'st not sheathe thy sword to save, 
But laid them in an early grave, 

America ! America ! 

How many hearts are wrung with pain, 

America ! America ! 
While you have had your children slain, 

America I America! 
Dear wives and children by the score - ' 
Have been turned out from their own door 
To beg their bread among the poor, 

America ! America ! 

Our land is dyed with brother's blood, 

America! America! 
Cain dyed it thus before the flood, 

America ! America ! 
Cain's spirit still is in our land. 
His brother's life is in his hand, 
His doom do read and understand, 
America ! America ! 

Our tears fall thick now o'er our land, 

America! America! 
And anguish reaches heart and hand, 

America ! America ! 
Is there no balm in Gilead ; 
Is there no power to make us glad, 
Oh ! must our hearts be ever sad, 

America ! America ! 



Above thee hangs a dismal cloud, 

America ! America ! 
The billows roar, it thunders loud, 

America ! America ! 
We're on destruction's ocean now. 
The gale is bursting o'er thy brow, 
'Thy ship is sinking, sinking now, 
America ! America ! 

A PRAYER. 

The other night while on my bed. 
And meditating on the dead, 
I asked the Lord for power to say 
Something to Hanson's memory. 

I often pray both day and night 
J'or strength and wisdom now to write 
That I, a vessel frail and weak, 
"When dead, may to the living speak. 

Silently I raised my cry, 
That God would send his presence nigh; 
And Oh, the rapture of that night 
Fills my poor soul with pure delight. 

1 felt the spirits of the dead 
Were thickly floating 'round my bed ; 
1 felt them in my fond embrace ; 
I felt them pressing near my face. 

The joy I felt I can't impart. 
I felt Christ's spirit in my heart. 
This spirit of joy and peace and love 
Seemed wafting me to realms above. 



00 

A TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF GEN. ROGER 
W. HANSON, 

Who fell at the Battle of Murfreesboro, Tenn., January 2, 1863. 

General Roger Hanson, we 
Sadly mourn thy destiny, 
Thou defender of the free 

Now in death must sleep. 

Oh, we mourn thy loss dear friend, 
We have loved thee to the end, 
Thou who didst our rights defend. 
Friend of liberty ! 

Thou the bravest of the brave, 
Died thy country's rights to save, 
And while life we all shall have, 

Ne'er will thee forget. 

Hundreds followed with delight, 
Thee, in thy last valiant fight ; 
Oh, the horrors of that sight ! 

On Murfreesboro's plains. 

Hundreds fell to rise no more. 
Weltering in their blood and gore ; 
May they have reached that happy shore 
Of blest felicity. 

May they have reached that happy place 
Where there are no foes to face, 
Clad in God's almighty grace. 

To sound his name abroad. 



100 

Hanson ever was the same, 

Glory, honor, love and fame 

Are linked with thy own deathless name, 

Thou friend of equal rights. 

Though you now in silence lie. 
And we too must shortly die. 
You'll not be forgotten by 

The sons of liberty. 

Hanson on his dying bed, 
Just before his spirit fled, 
" I for my country die," he said, 

" My brave Kentucky boys.'^ 

May those loved ones meet again, 
Free from sorrow, grief and pain. 
And with Christ and God remain 

Through vast eternity. 

Lord do bless his mourning wife, 
Her remaining days of life 
Through this wicked world of strife, 

And may they meet above. 

TO W. N. HALDEMAN 

(For the Courier.) 

To you kind friend, and your dear wife 
I send my gratitude for life ; 
Oh! may you prosper here below, 
In all you undertake to d'". 

May you have means to bless mankind. 
To help the poor, the lame, the blind ; 
May God your every effort bless 
And crown your life with great success. 



101 

How kind you were to my dear son, 
My much afflicted, wounded one. 
While lying long near death's dark door. 
I had no hope I'd see him more. 

No father, brother, sister dear ; 
'No mother there to shed a tear, 
But all at home in deepest grief 
Could lend no hand to his relief. 

But God did hear our feeble cry. 
And answered us from heaven on high. 
And sent that Son, worth more than wealth 
Back home to us again in health. 

There's E. M. Bruce and his dear wife, 
Shall have my prayer and thanks for life. 
He bore him from the field of slain 
And nursed him back to life again. 

I owe my thanks to many a friend 
Who did their kind assistance lend. 
His friends were counted by the score, 
And all were kind and good I'm sure. 

Oh, may God's blessings rest on all; 
Both old and young, both great and small, ' 
Who ever did by night or day 
Befriend my son in any way. 

May God his saving grace now send 
To him and every earthly friend, 
I'd love to meet them on that shore 
Where war and strife will be no more. 



102 

Yes soon, I hope, to meet above 
Many dear friends I fondly love. 
There, free from sin and death and pain, 
Oh, may we all in glory reign. 

* Mother of T. "W. Bell, who was seriously wounded at tb.; 
Battle of Chickamauga. 

FOR MISS SALLIE JOHNSON. 

Miss Sallie, Oh ! do think of me 
If only when these lines you see. 



When first I saw that smiling face 
I did with pleasure look, 

A noble soul and virtues there, 
I read, as in a book. 



'5 



I seldom see a smile like thine 

When I a stranger meet, 
But when I do, it wins my love 

The moment that we meet. 

I saw there lurking in that smile, 

And stamped upon thy face 
A double share of precious gems 

To give your person grace. 

There is a smile that speaks of heaven. 

Of virtue rare and fine, 
A soul of purity and love 

That smile, dear girl, is thine. 

And when you come to death's dark door, 

If you have saving grace 
There then the sweetest smile will rest 

That ever lit your face. 



103 



May angels guard you while on earth 

And keep all foes away, 
Then wafc your happy spirit home 

To smile in heaven, I pray. 



LINES 

Composed on Fast Day. 1864. 

Lord this day of prayer and fasting, 

Hear thy helpless children cry ; 
Oh ! do hear their lamentations, 
Answer them from heaven on high. 

Chorus. — Precious lives this wreck will cost; 
Lord do help us. Oh ! do help us^ 
For without thee all is lost. 

Two or three this day have asked thee 

To restore us peace and love ; 
Two or three, we have the promise 

Thou wilt hear from heaven above. 

Cho. — Precious lives this wreck, etc. 

Lord pour on us thy dear spirit, 

Give us hearts to ask aright ; 
Yain is hope that man can help us, 

Come, Oh ! God of love and might. 

Cho. — Precious lives this wreck, etc. 

Lord behold our land like rivers 

Run in precious human blood, 
And destruction 's all around 

Raging like an angry flood. 

Cho. — Precious lives this wreck, etc 



104 

Lord behold the widow's anguish ; 

Hear the orphan's piercing cry, 
How poor mothers mourn and languish, 

Lord do help us from on high. 

Cho. — Precious lives this wreck, etc. 

Lord do send our helpless nation 

The sweet messenger of peace ; 
Do by thine Almighty power. 

Her from war and blood release. 

Cho. — Precious lives this wreck, etc. 

A PRAYER. 

Composed in 1862. 

Dear Father, from thy lofty throne, 
Where sin and strife will ne'er be known, 
Look on our once fair happy land 
And rescue us with thy right hand. 

Dear Father, words can not express 
Our sad condition and distress; 
Father and son in mortal strife, 
And brothers take each other's life. 

Dear Father, it is strange, indeed, 
That men who have thy word to read 
Can with that Holy Book in hand 
Blight such a blessed and favored land. 

It seems all men are blind with rage. 
And thus in war they do engage ; 
They all have eyes but do not see : 
They trust in self, Lord, not in thee. 



105 



Dear Lord, I pray do give them sight 
And give them hearts to act aright; 
May our dear country, once so great 
Be saved before it is too late. 

Oh ! could we all in heart unite 
And pray that men may yet do right. 
And save our land so dearly bought 
For which our early fathers fought. 

Dear Lord, now unto thee alone 
The hearts of mortals here are known; 
Do teach both parties what is right 
And stop this most unholy fight. 

A DREAM OR VISION. 1864. 

I dreamed I s^w the other night 

A strange and most affecting sight. 

The night was dark and sad and drear. 

I rode from church with friends most dear; 

A heavy gloom spread o'er our land, 

And sorrow was on every hand. 

Not on the earth, but in the skies 

Did this appear before my eyes. 

In the southeast we saw a sight. 

A brilliant star stood blazing bright; 

The size was like the sun at noon. 

But far more brilliant than the moon 

It blazed and flickered, then a change 

Passed o'er it, to us all most strange. 

An eagle of tremendous size 

Appeared to our astonished eyes, 

Perched on a spear, with wings half s^ead 



lOG 

Looking as if it must be fed. 

We soon beheld with great surprise 

Another change before oar eyes ; 

A shadow o'er this eagle passed, 

And it was from our vision cast. 

But joy of joys ! a man there stood. 

If there is one, perfect and good. 

His countenance manly and bold; 

His form was cast in beauty's mold. 

Tall, large and quite erect was he, 

His dark cloth coat quite to the knee, 

His pants were also of the same. 

All wondered, but none knew his name. 

Peace, love and joy beamed from his eyeSy 

The light from him lit up the skies 

The rays more brilliant than the sun 

Reached half the globe from this great one. 

The Eist was in a blaze of light. 

But still the West was black as night 

While he in pity viewed our land 

Our destiny seemed in his hand. 

This is our president for peace, 

" Our ruined country he'll release," 

Was sounded through that waiting throng, 

"And we for peace have waited long." 

Some cried for joy, I gave a scream, 

I then awoke, lo ! 'twas a dream. 

FOR MISS MOLLIE McGlNNIS, 

"Who was presented a Bible as a prize at school. 

Accept this prize, though small, 'tis great. 
Pray search its pages soon and late; 
Make it your council day and night, 
'Twiiralways teach you what is right. 



107 

It points you to that heavenly shore 
Where sin and pain will be no more. 
It tells you of that Lamb of God 
Who spilt for us his precious blood. 

His blood alone can cleanse from sin 
And make us a new life begin ; 
Now while in health and youthful bloom 
Oh ! seek that rest beyond the tomb. 

Do seek that city out of sight 
Where saints are clothed in garments white 
To sing and shout in joyful lays 
Eternally their Savior's praise. 

And may we meet in that dear land 
Where friends ne'er take the parting hand. 
Oh ! may we meet with those we love 
In that delightful world above. 

A TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF MY DEAR 

LONG DEPARTED GRANDMOTHER, 

FRANCES PENNEY, 

Wife of Elder John Penney. 

I can't describe his tender, loving wife, 
A gem of purity through all her life. 
Sweet charity, in all her forms of grace 
Adorned her person and her lovely face. 
Was she compared to most of womankind ; 
She was as gold to dross, and quite refined. 
To make home happy was her chief delight. 
She taught by her example what was right ; 
Her voice was like a harp of sweetest sound, 
And with it brought peace and quiet all around. 
Sweet, tender, kind and loving all her life, 
A model sister, daughter, mother, wife. 



108 

LINES 

To the memory of Hardin Penuej^ sou of Dr. John and Gabriella 
Penney, died September25th, 1867, of cholera, In his 21st year. He 
died in the triumphs of religion, exhorting all around him to pre- 
pare to meet him in heaven. 

He is gone to the grave, 
Oh! how we deplore him, 
In the bloom of his youth, 
In the prime of his days ; 
But sweet is the hope now, 
Christ's own robe adorns him 
Through ages ne'er ending, 
He will still sing God's praise. 

He is gone to the grave, 
May each friend be ready 
To meet him in heaven 
With many they love ; 
Oh ! may his dear brothers. 
His sister and mother. 
And youthful companions 
All meet him above. 

He is gone to the grave 
And left his dear mother, 
A sorrowing widow 
In anguish to mourn. 
Dear Lord, remember her 
In her affliction 
While friend after friend 
Is away from her torn. 



109 
FOR A GENTLEMAN, TO A YOUNG LADY, 

During the War. 

Could we but meet no more to part, 

Oh 1 how 'twould calm this throbbing heart. 

Unite with me God's help to seek, 

Soon he a glorious change may speak. 

In his right hand is peace and love, 

Now may he send them from above. 

My heart will ever be the same, 

Oh! how it thrills at thy dear name. 

Like balm it heals and soothes to rest 

Loud murmurings rising in my breast. 

I sometimes hope that I shall see. 

E'er long, the one most dear to me. 

May I not hope thy love to share. 

Until we meet, I know not where ? 

Round you may earthly blessings twine, 

Riches and honors all combine ; 

And may God fit each by his love, 

Your soul and mine to meet above. 

LINES 

Composed on the Death of Brother Henry Bell. 

Our brother dear is called away 

By death's cold, firm, resistless hand ; 

But we can hope his spirit lives 
In a far happier better land. 

For years he knew consumption. 
Possession of his house of clay. 

But cheerfully he bore his pain 
As life did slowly ebb away. 



110 

He wished his friends all cheerful, too, 
While waiting round his bed of pain. 

Calmly each day he talked of heaven, 
That heaven he hoped e're long to gain. 

And though we grieved with him to part, 
We feel our loss to be his gain, 

That while we still must suifer on. 
He doth with Christ in glory reign. 

Oh ! what a happy meeting there, 
His parents dear he loved so well. 

We trust have long enjoyed that rest 
Where Christ and angel spirits dwell. 

We hope he's met that dear young wife 
That left him in her youthful bloom, 

The dearest treasure God had given, 
Was hurried to an early tomb. 

And there a son and daughter dear. 
He'll meet with them, to part no more ; 

The eldest son, the father's pride. 
Went with his mother to that shore.* 

But years rolled on before death called. 
To take away his daughter dear, 

A precious jewel was that child. 
Her father's daily comforter. 

I saw her bid her friends farewell, 
And beg them all to weep no more, 

But try and seek a Savior's love, 

And meet her on bright Canaan's shore. 

They were killed by lightning. 



Ill 

Our brother left iix children dear, 
And none profess a Savior's love ; 

Dear Lord, before it is too late, 
Prepare their souls for heaven above. 

Arrest them in their mad career. 
How dreadful is the sinner's state ; 

Lord give them grace while 'tis to-day. 
To-morrow it may be too late. 

Do bless the wife he left behind, 
The wife of his declining years; 

Be her support and comforter 

While traveling through this vale of tears. 

And if consistent with thy will 

Give all his friends thy saving grace, 

So when death comes they all may meet 
And dwell in thy most fond embrace. 

LINES 

Composed when all alone. 1866. 

Though all the world should leave me, 

1 have one faithful friend 
That never will forsake me 

Though time shall never end. 

Through years of sore affliction. 

He's heard my daily cry. 
And on his blessed bosom 

I'll lay me down and die. 

When friends are worn and weary, 

And I am left alone, 
Oh ! with such tender pity 

He hears each sigh and groan. 



112 

As if to soothe my sorrows, 
And ease my aching breast 

He whispers oft of heaven, 
That heaven of endless rest. 

Where, free from sin and sorrow, 
Temptation, care and pain 

He with his own dear children 
Eternally ghall reign. 

He whispers of my loved ones, 
My parents. Oh I how dear I 

All robed in spotless garments 
Enjoying that heavenly sphere. 

He whispers of my children, 

Five angels now above. 
All basking in the sunshine 

Of his Almighty love. 

He whispers of that fountain, 

That never will run dry ; 
Of bright and shining mansions. 

He has prepared on high. 

Of that Celestial city. 

Where streets are paved with gold, 
Of vast amount of treasures 

He has yet to unfold. 

He whispers my afflictions 

Are almost at an end, 
And I am so enraptured 

To know he is my friend. 



113 

My blessed Lord and Savior, 
He died that I might live ; 

Poor sinners come and trust him, 
He will your sins forgive. 

Dear Lord, prepare for heaven 
My friends I so much love, 

Teach them to love and serve thee. 
And may we meet above. 

Oh ! may we meet, dear Savior, 
And tune our joyful lays, 

With all the hosts of heaven, 
To thy dear boundless praise. 

A PRAYER FOR HELP. 

January, 1867. 

Father, with thy pitying love, 
Forgive thy murmuring child, 

Though I've long afflicted been. 
Thou oft hast on me smiled. 

Send rich stores of boundless grace 
To thy poor afflicted one. 

Be my strength and hiding place 
Until my work is done. 

Teach me. Oh ! my Father, teach 
Me submission to thy will ; 

Give me freely Jesus' love. 
And all my murmurings still. 

H 



114 

Let me see thy smiling face, 

That will chase all clouds away ; 

Oh ! I humbly beg thy love 
While here on earth I stay. 

Without thee I cannot live, 
'Tis a desert dark and wild, 
Thou art a balm for every wound 
Of thy poor suffering child. 

Pather, I am prone to sin, 

And forgetful of thy love ; 
Bnt thy righteousness I plead 

To reach sweet heaven above. 

Other hope for heaven I've none. 
Helpless clings my soul to thee, 

Oh I I trust alone that blood 
Poured out on Calvary's tree. 

That sweet hope has been to me 

As an anchor to my soul. 
Though the tempests round me howl, 

And billows o'er me roll. 

Through my long affliction here, 

That has been my only stay, 
That has often lulled my pain. 

And drove my tears away. 

Oh! forgive thy murmuring child. 

Land me safely, on that shore 
Where that blood- washed throng will dwell 

With Christ forevermore. 



115 

There I'll meet my darling friends 
Who have trusted in thy love, 

There we'll sing and shout thy praise 
Throughout the realms above. 

Free from sorrow, sin and death, 
All shall be on that bright shore. 

We'll shout and sing of Jesus' love 
When time shall be no more. 



H. V. BELL'S EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY, 

While at Lawrenceburg, Ky., at School. 

Dear Horace, may your daily cries 
Ascend God's throne^above the skies ; 

Ask him your temper to control. 
And save by grace your precious soul. 

Ask him to help you day by day 

To walk that straight and narrow way, 

To give you wisdom while you're young, 

To cleanse your heart and guide your tongue. 

Oh ! may he teach you what to do 

While this vain world you're passing through. 
To advance his cause and kingdom here, 

Oh ! may that be your daily care. 

Ask him to make you meek and mild, 

A dear, obedient, loving child; 
And may it be your chief delight 

To make your parents' burden light. 



116 

Your pa is worn with many cares 
In laboring for us all these years ; 

But may his labors not be vain, 
As God has given you health again. 

And you, how oft our darling boy 

Have made our hearts to beat with joy. 

To see our son of many cares, 
How manfully his burden bears. 

To your dear brother and his wife 
Be kind and loving all your life, 

And to their darling children, too. 
To one and all your love prove true. 

You have an only sister here, 
Try to be kind and good to her ; 

You know she's labored day and night 
To try and help to train you right. 

When young your mother helpless lay, 
'Twas she who nursed you night and day. 

And if you love me, Horace dear. 
When I am gone, be kind to her. 

She's waited on your brother, too. 
Father and mother, as well as you. 

Oh ! that we all could, everyone, 

Think of the labor of love she's done. 

Oh ! Lord do help us day and night, 
Make it our study to do right; 

Could we but live in daily prayer. 
The path of duty's oft found there. 



117 

Prayer oft dispels the darkest gloom, 
And brings the sunshine in its room ; 

God help us live from day to day 
At Jesus' feet, I humbly pray. 

And when death comes, Oh I God of love, 
Receive us all in heaven above. 

Father in heaven thy will be done. 
But still I plead for every one. 



LINES 

Written when the hand of affliction had been laid heavily upon 
the husband of the author, and no one thought, for months, that 
he could recover. February 22, 1874. 

Dear Father, show thy smiling face 

And chase our clouds away; 
Oh ! Lord, do come to our relief, 

I humbly beg and pray. 

Is there no balm to heal the wounds 

Of thy poor children here ? 
I know there's balm in Gilead 

And a physician there. 

Then let me live at Jesus' feet. 

Pleading with Father, Son, 
To send that balm and heal the wounds 

Of my dear, darling one. 

I daily seek for help in vain 

But find no help below; 
Dear Savior to thy cross I cling, 

No other help I know. 



118 

Lord pity thy poor suffering child 

In her afflicted state , 
Oh I send tby smiles with healing balm 

Before it is too late. 

Oh ! if consistent with thy will, 

Remove thy chastening rod 
From one who from his youthful bloom 

Has tried to ^rve his God. 

Dear Father, drive his clouds away 
And give him health once more; 

Oh ! may his life of usefulness 
Be as it was before. 

Dear Lord, a helpless child I come 

To thee my all I bring, 
While faith and hope are girded on, 

I to thy cross will cling. 

In meek submission may I bow 

Beneath thy chastening rod; 
May I not murmur but be still 

And know that it is God. 

I've been afflicted many years, 

'Tis for my good I see. 
Though thou shouldst slay me, dearest Lord, 

I still would trust in thee. 



119 

LINES 

Composed when the hand of affliction was lifted from the hus- 
band of the author, and he was suddenly restored to health 
again. Many believed it was in answer to her prayers. January 
2, 1875. 

Oh ! how I thank and praise thy name, 

My glorious God on high, 
That thou shouldst hear and answer prayers 

For such an one as I. 

! thou hast heard my feeble prayers. 

And answered them in love. 
And smoothed my pathway with thy hand 

To^the fair bright realms above. 

Oh I I will thank and praise thy name 

As long as I have breath, 
That thou hast snatched my husband dear 

From the very jaws of death. 

Long weary earthly effort 

He did refuse to try. 
The doctors and his many friends 

All felt he soon must die. 

My pathway, Oh I how rugged. 

For many years that's past. 
But none of my afflictions 

Were ever like the last. 



But God in His great mercy. 
And by His mighty power, 

Removed my worst affliction 
Almost within an hour. 



120 



Oh ! may I always praise thee 
Through night as well as day, 

My own dear Heavenly Father, 
I humbly beg and pray. 



W. E. BELL'S FORTIETH BIRTHDAY. 



Forty long years have come and gone 
Since you were given to us, my son, 
A mother's love, a father's joy, 
Our only living darling boy. 

The only grandchild of my mother's; 
The only nephew of sisters and brothers. 
I remember the joy of my friends that day. 
Though long they've been mouldering beneath the 
clay. 

When I clasped to my bo3om the babe of my love, 
I prayed Grod to fit him for heaven above. 
To guard and guide him wherever he be, 
To save and protect him, but loan him to me. 

And all these long years have my prayers daily been. 
Lord give him thy grace and keep him from sin, 
Through long weary nights while others would sleep, 
Have I tossed on my pillow in anguish to weep. 

Lest I had done something to lead him astray, 
Or left something undone that stood in the way. 
What have I neglected, or what have I done, 
That keeps you from Jesus, my dear, darling son ? 



121 

I know how imperfect my days have all been, 
How poor my example to keep you from sin. 
I pray God to help me by day and by night, 
To discharge all my duties, for I seldom do right. 

Oh ! how I have changed in these forty years ; 
I am bent with old age, with sorrows and cares, 
But then, young and happy and cheerful and gay. 
My days full of sunshine passed swiftly away. 

In time you had brothers and sisters, my boy. 
With my loved ones my cup oft ran over with joy; 
Death entered that Eden of love to me. 
He took five of my darlings and left only three. 

For years great afflictions all known to my God 
Have kept your poor mother bent under the rod. 
I feel my chastisements were sent for my good; 
They keep me near Jesus, as nothing else could. 

You are training up children for eternity, too; 

Let me beg you, my son, always watch what you do. 

Make patience your watch- word, keep love as your 

guide, 
Only trust and God's grace will always provide. 

Remember, my son, death always is near; 
He has taken one darling and left you five here; 
Try daily to train them in the way they should go. 
When He'll call for another, you now cannot know. 

The thought often comes, should the father go first. 
Such thoughts swell my heart with anguish to burst; 
Dear Heavenly Father, in mercy I pray, 
Do fit him for heaven this fortieth birthday. 



122 



May he and his wife and his children all be 

Prepared for that heaven I hope soon to see, 

And there with my loved ones, when my work is all 

done, 
May I rest with my Savior without losing one. 



H. V. BELL'S TWENTY-FIRST BIRTHDAY, 

While at Greorgetown, Ky., at School. 

You are twenty-one years old to-day, 

What a solemn thought to me, 
That my dear afflicted baby boy 

Is a grown man now, and free. 

You can be as free as air, my boy, 

x\nd say and do what you will. 
Your mother's daily prayers and cares, 

And " sermons " will follow you still. 

You are far from your mother, my son, 

And if you still love her. 
You should still heed whatever she writes 

When you are to her so dear. 

You are standing on slippery places, my boy, 

Snares are all along your way; 
May my Savior guide and guard you, my son, 

Is my prayer both night and day. 

You know not a mother's love, my boy, 
How it makes me tremble to see 

Any symptom of weaning away 
From my blessed Savior or me. 



123 

I love to talk of that land, my child, 

Where I hope to meet above 
With many dear friends long gone before, 

And with many more I love. 

May that land have attractions for you ; 

May this world with its deceit 
Not fill up the longings of your soul, 

And all its desires meet. 

This sermon may be the last, my son, 
Your mother may ever write ; 

I am waiting, longing for that shore 
Where is eternal delight. 



TO BE SUNG AT FAMILY WORSHIP. 

t)ear Savior, while we kneel in prayer, 
Oh ! may thy quickening grace 

Teach us what sinful worms we are, 
And how to seek thy face. 

And when our sinful bodies lie. 

Upon our beds to rest, 
Oh ! may our weary spirits fly 

And lean upon thy breast. 

And when on earth we kneel no more 

To plead our sins forgiven, 
Do land us. Lord, on Canaan's shore 

To dwell with thee in heaven. 



124 
TO MRS. LIZZIE MILLER AND DAUGHTER. 

Dear Lizzie, now we have to part, 
Oh ! how you twine about my heart. 
I hope ere long to reach that shore 
Where we shall meet to part no more. 

Oh ! what a blessed, glorious hope, 
And how it lifts our spirits up 
To hope we'll meet with those we love 
In that delightful world above. 

When shall we reach that blissful shore 
Where all our trials will be o'er ; 
Where sickness, sorrow, death and pain 
Will never trouble us again. 

And you, dear Susie, hear I pray. 

Now what your poor old aunt would say : 

Be an obedient, loving child 

To your mother ever meek and mild. 

Yes, always mind your mother dear, 
May her comfort be your daily care 
As you grow older time will prove 
There's no love like a mother's love. 

Oh! try to soothe your mother's cares 
By kindness wipe away her tears. 
May God by His all boundless love 
Prepare your soul for heaven above. 

And if I never meet you more, 
May I meet you both on Canaan's shore, 
With all our loved ones there to dwell — 
Is the prayer of your Aunt Martha Bell. 



125 

LINES 

On the most profitable way of reading the Scriptures. Written 
to be read at a Minister's and Member's meeting at Salvisa, Ky. 

To read with profit, we should pray 
To God to draw our minds away 
From worldly cares and earthly strife, 
And think of our eternal life. 

Now when we read God's word aright 
Is when we read it with delight^ 
Studying His holy will to know, 
And striving in His grace to grow. 

Read not for disputation's sake, 

But peace and harmony to make ; 

This work is profitably done 

When Faith and Hope are linked in one. 

Should we thus read His holy will 
He with his grace our hearts would fill, 
We'd oftener tell to sinners round 
What great salvation we had found. 

To read with profit is indeed, 

To try to practice what you read. 

We should not read with thoughtless mind, 

But study the whole truth to find. 

And should we not with others plead 
Our Heavenly Father's word to read ? 
That they may find ere 'tis too late 
An eternal interest in his estate. 



126 

Oh ! this should be the daily prayer 
Of all true Christians everywhere ; 
The old and young, the poor and great 
Might find the Lord before too late. 

LINES 

For Mrs. Lizzie Johnson, on the death of her children and 
mother. 

And must I give them all away ? 

My precious children, one, two, three ; 
Oh ! how I bend beneath the rod. 

Father in heaven, pity me. 

How hard to part with all the three, 

If thou hadst left me only one ; 
Teach me submission, dearest Lord, 

That I may say, "Thy will be done." 

And death has borne my mother, too. 
Away from my most fond embrace ; 

Oh ! how I miss her tender love, 
Her counsel and her loving face. 

But blessed thought I they are at rest, 
In their sweet home on Canaan's shore. 

There they will know no grief like mine ; 
There pain and anguish are no more. 

Dear Savior, send thy quickening grace 
And change the hearts of those I love, 

That they as well as I may be 

Prepared for that sweet rest above. 

When we are done with earthly things. 

And all our trials here are o'er. 
May we be wafted on the wings 

Of Jesus' love to Canaan's shore. 



127 

TO MY HUSBAND. 

The following piece was occasioned by a remark that was 
made by the husband of the author to some friends who were 
discussing the subject of " Women Wearing the Breeches." He 
pointed to his wife, who was passing through the room, and re- 
marked, "There's an old woman who has been pulling for the 
breeches for the last forty years." She made no reply at the time, 
but when Christmas came, this piece was found in his sock. It 
was entitled "A Christmas Gift for my Husband," from the "Old 
Woman who tries to Wear the Breeches," December, 1879. 

It seems I have the credit 

By my good old patient man 
Of " trying to wear the breeches," 

Though I know I never can. 

Its true, I've tried to help him 

With all my might and main, 
And worked as hard as he has done 

Oar living here to gain. 

Hundreds of yards of cloth I've made 

To make his burden lighter, 
While many a cheerful song I've sung 

To make his days all brighter. 

Then coats and pants and vests I've made 

With care, and many stitches. 
But never thought 'twould be construed 

" She's trj^ing to wear the breeches." 

I've cooked and washed and made the soap, 

Dried up the lard and tallow, 
And given my advice too free 

For one whose mind's so shallow. 



128 

I've sewed for cutting corn and wood, 
For baskets, brooms and collars. 

And tried the very best I could 
To make and save his dollars. 

Through years of never-dying love 
I've toiled, though not for riches, 

Great consolation now to know 
"I've tried to wear the breeches." 

I've rocked the cradle with one foot 
And sewed while he xvas sleeping. 

And sung a lowly lullaby 
To keep our babe from weeping. 

As down the steep of life we've jogged, 
Through bright or cloudy weather, 

I've tried to lift h's burden up, 
Or make it like a feather. 

Now I am hastening to a close 
With toils and cares and stitches, 

I'll soon relinquish you, my dear, 
My dress as well as breeches. 

My Savior has prepared for me. 

When all my work is over, 
A glorious robe of righteousness 

My many faults to cover. 

Then with my loved ones gone before 
I'll sing that dear old story. 

How Jesus died that I might live 
Eteriially in glory. 



120 

RESPONSE BY THE " OLD MAN." 

I know, my dear, you've toiled hard 

To help me in my labors, 
And all you've said I now admit. 

And so will all our neighbors. 

James M. Bell. 

LINES FOR JAMES M. BELL 

On the Forty-fifth anniversary of our marriage, March 19th, 1880. 
This is the last piece written by the author. She did not live 
quite a year after this was written. 

I've been thinking, often thinking, 
OF the years through which I've passed; 

Of the many clouds and sunshine 
Which have o'er my life been cast. 

And as I have been thinking 
Of my friends both false and true, 

I remember a little girl and boy 
Who, in childhood, I well knew. 

The boy fell very much in love, 

And he said he would confess, 
'Twas with that little girl at school 

Who wore the red flannel drees. 

At school they learned that secret 

Time never can destroy, 
That they loved each other dearly, 

This little girl and boy. 



130 

I'll not describe their courtship, 
'Twould be tedious I should say, 

For it had no cessation 
Until their wedding day. 

The years since they were married 

Are forty-five to-day. 
He was to nourish and cherish, 

And she was to obey. 

And if she has not done it. 
She's tried with all her might, 

But her life has been a failure 
In always doing right. 

They never thought to live on love, 
Though they were very poor; 

They knew they'd have to work 
To keep want from their doDr. 

The husband first taught school 
When commencing their new life. 

To try to make a home 

For his young and happy wife. 

He then went to farming 
To raise his corn and wheat; 

He always fattened hogs enough 
To make his yearly meat. 

He milked the cows, or had it done, 
To make his butter and cheese ; 

Show me the man if there is one 
That beats this, if you please. 



131 

And then the wood that he's had cut, 
And fires that he has made, 

Would lay the most of men, I think. 
Quite far into the shade. 

He says his good kind treatment 
Keeps his wife from turning gray. 

That makes her look so youthful, 
He will often to her say. 

She never has to catch her horse. 

He always has that done ; 
What kind, indulgent treatment 

To a wife that loves to run. 

He has followed hi? surveying, 
For lo ! these many years, 

And all his life has been made up 
Of many toils and cares. 

Long years ago a home he bought. 
The dearest home on earth ; 

The home of happy childhood. 
The home that gave her birth. 

And as they both are hastening 
To that world beyond the sky. 

Lord give them grace to live on 
As well as grace to die. 

And when their days are ended, 
Oh ! may they meet above 

To dwell with Christ together 
In an eternity of love. 



132 

TO BE SUNG AT THE GRAVE OF THE 
AUTHOR. 

The following lines were composed under the greatest religious 
enjoyment. Very few tunes in my life have I been permitted to 
taste of the sweets of religion to the extent that 1 did while com- 
posing these lines. I felt that in a week at most, my friends 
might sing this with joy, and not sorrow. My joy was so great 
I could scarcely tell whether I was in the body or out of the body. 
Oh ! if my joy is so great here what will it be when I shall see my 
Father face to face ? " When I shall see Him for myself, and not 
another," I desire this to be sung at my grave, to the tune, "I 
Am Bound for Home." 

Weep not for me, Oh ! I am at rest; 

I rest in that City above, 
And all who forsake their sins may come 

And dwell in this mansion of love. 

Weep not for me, oh ! I am not dead, 

I live with my Savior above, 
I live where sin has no longer the power 

To enter my Eden of love. 

Weep not for me, my parents are here, 

My children, with many I love, 
I pray you prepare, my friends I now leave, 

To meet us in heaven above. 

Weep not for me, but rather rejoice 

To know all my trials are past. 
I'm done with protracted afflictions and pain, 

I've reached my sweet haven at last. 

FINIS. 



133 



INDEX. 

A Call for Volunteers 82 

Acrostic 14 

Acrostic 20 

Acrostic . 22 

Acrostic 25 

Acrostic 27 

Acrostic 28 

A Dream or Vision 105 

A Lamentation 95 

A Lament for Mr. and Mrs. S H. Penney 74 

A Mother's Lament for Mrs. Hawkins 79 

A Mother's Love 74 

An Acrostic 13 

A New Year's Gift for W. E. Bell 52 

A New Year's Prayer 56 

A Peace Offering 67 

A Prayer 98 

A Prayer for Help . 113 

A Tribute to the Memory of Josephine W. Bell .... 59 

A Tribute to the Memory of Mrs. Sallie A. Perry ... 60 

A Tribute to the Memory of John W. Butts 70 

A Tribute to the Memory of Edmund Jordan 75 

A Tribute to the Memory of my Grandmother .... 107 

A True Story 15 

Condolence 57 

For a Gentleman to a Young Lady 109 

For Album of Miss Eliza J. Penney 51 

For Martha Jane Beazley 36 

For Miss Bettie Carpenter 80 



134 

For Miss Betti-e Paxton 41 

For Miss Lizzie Price 79 

For Miss Mollie McGinnis 106 

For Miss Sallie Burrus 72 

For Miss Sallie Johnson 102 

For Miss Sallie White Penney 14 

For Miss There^sa Carson 43 

For Mrs. Lucy Price 33 

For Mrs. Martha Keach 65 

For Mrs. Missouri Penney 77 

For my Niece, Ann Mary Beazley 37 

For Sarah Bell Gritton 77 

For Tnomas Penney 32 

For Two School Girls 72 

For W. E. Bell 53 

For William W, Penney 33 

H. V. Bell's Eighteenth Birthday 115 

H. V. Bell's Twenty first Birthday 122 

In Memoriam 48 

Jeff Davis is our Leader 85 

Lines during Afflction of Author's Husband 117 

Lines after this Affliction was Lifted 119 

Lines composed under Affliction 44 

Lines composed when Alone iii 

Lines on Death of a Daughter 22 

Lines after Death of Two Children 26 

Lines on Death of Brother Henry Bell 109 

Lines during a Drought 46 

Lines composed for Family Worship 47 

Lines composed on Fast Day 103 

Lines to Memory of Hardin Penney ic8 

Lines to James W. Bell 129 

Lines after the Lord had spared W. E. Bell 66 

Lines for Mary E. Wallace 39 

Lines for Mrs. Fannie Carpenter .... 50 

Lines for Mrs. IJzzie Johnson 126 



135 

Lines for Mrs. M. B. Holt 50 

Lines to send with Photograph 54 

Lines during a Protracted Meeting 48 

Lines on most Profitable Way of Reading Scriptures . 125 

Lines to Sing in Church i^ 

Lines on Split in Old Goshen Church ... 12 

Lilies for Two Wandering "Rebel" Boys 76 

My Conversion o 

Responseby the^Old Man" . . . 129 

Something Spicy for Abraham 86 

The Abolition Wagon 02 

The Anderson News c-b 

The Monster Intemperance • 31 

The Old Guard and the Day Book . 04 

To the Abolitionists 89 

To Dancing Christians . ; , 5^ 

To my only Daughter, Mary 4^ 

To Frankie Bell • . . . 6^ 

To my Husband J27 

To Mary ...'.'!.*.'."' 30 

To Mary E. Wallace . 3^ 

To Miss Bettie Penney ^j 

To Miss Polly Odell ' ' ' " ^ ' . . 63 

To Miss Susie M. Burrus . . . ! 54 

To Mrs, Lizzie Miller and Daughter 124 

To Mrs. M. B. Holt 42 

To my Niece, Almeda Beazley 34 

To my Sister, Almeda Beazley 38 

To be Sung at Family Worship 123 

To be Sung at Grave of the Author 1^2 

To W. E. Bell ^2 

To W. E. Bell 69 

To the Memory of Wm. S. Burrus , 29 

To W. N. Haldeman j^^ 

Tribute to Memory of Gen. Roger W. Hanson .... 99 
W. E. Bell's Fortieth Birthday 120 






\ > ., > " " /■ > .0^ 



X^^x 









"/"^, 




':<> 



■</^^ A^' 







0^^' 


o '' * /• 



,\X^' '-^r. 









■^* 



■-6' .^ 



\. 







as (N 

- V. 






.l^V 



'^ 



"^^' ,^\^^ 



\0- 



















'J' .\ V- a; _j\\ , ,, 







X 



c," 



^-„ .A^' 






I ^ ^ "^-^ ^ ^/ $:S' \VV ^ .c,^ ^. 










' *> i- ^^ A 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



016 211 567 4 






